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But let none expect any great promotion 
of tbe sciences, especially in their effective 
part, unless natural philosophy be drawn 
out to particular sciences; and again unless 
these particular scinces be brought back 
again to natural philosophy. From this de- 
fect it is that astronomy, optics, music, 
many mechanical arts, and what seems 
stranger, even moral and civil philosophy 
and logic, rise but little above their founda- 
tions, and only skim over the varieties and 
surface of things, viz, because after these 
particular sciences are formed and divided 
off they are no longer nourished by natural 
philosophy, which might give them strength 
Tud increase; and therefore no wonder if 
the sciences thrive not when separated 
from their roots.— Bacon, Novum Organum. 



THE SCIENCE 



OF 



POLITICAL ECONOMY 



BY 



irM 



HENRY GEORGE 

Author of ' ' Progress and Poverty. " 




1897. 

CONTINENTAL PUBEISHING CO. 

New York and London 



COrVRIGHT, 1897, 

BY 

ANNIE C. GEORGE. 



^*' 



['j " . 0^ 



.6 ,1 



To 

August Lewis of New York 

and 

Tom L. .Tohns<:iu of Cleveland, Ohio, 

who, of tlieii- own motion, and without sui?- 

aention 01- thought of mine, have helped me 

to the leisure needed to write it. I affec- 

lionatcl.v dedicate what in this sense is 

I lieii worl.-. 



PRErACE. 



•^»^'l»^»^»^»^ 



Tu "Progress and rovcrty" I rcinsted 
political economy in what was at the time 
the points wliich most needed recastinjr. 
Critifism has but shown the soundness of 
tlie views there exjiressed. 

But "Progress and Poverty" did not cover 
the whole field of "Pnlitical Eronomy," and 
was necessarily in large measure of a con- 
troversial rather than of a constructive 
nature. To do more than this was at the 
time beyond the leisure at my command. 
Xor did I see full.v the necessit.v. For while 
I realized the greatness of the forces which 
woidd throw themselves against the simp'c 
truth wliieh I endeavored to make clear. I 
ilid think that should "Progress and Pov- 
erty" succeed in commanding anything likn 
wide attention there would be at least some 
of the professed teachers of nolitical econ- 
om.v who. recognizing the i.nnored truths 
which I had endeavored to iiiike cli-ar. 
would fit them in with what of tnilli was 
already iindirstood and taught. 

The years which have elapsed since the 
I)Ublication of "Progress and Povc rty" have 
been on m.v part devoted to the prop igation 
of the truths taught in "Progress and Pov- 
erty" by l)ooks. pamphlets, magazine arti- 
cles, newspaper work, lectures andispeeches. 
and have been so greatly successful as not 
only to far exceed what fifteen years ago I 



could have dari d to look forward to in this 
time, but to have given me reason to feel 
that of all the men of whom I have ever 
lieard who have attempted anything like so 
great a work against anything like so great 
odds. I have been in the result of the en- 
deavor to arouse thought most favored. 

Xot nierel.v wherever the English tongue 
is spid<en. but in all parts of the world, 
men are arising who will carry forward to 
final trium))h the great movement which 
"Pro.gress and Poverty" liegan. The great 
work is not done. l)Ut it is commenced, and 
< ail never go baclc. 

On the night on which 1 finished the tinal 
chapter of "Progress and Poverty" I felt 
that the talent ('iitrusted to nie had l)een 
.iccouiited for— felt more fully satisfied, 
more deeply grateful th.an if all the king- 
doms of the earth had been laid at my feet. 
anil though the years have justitied, not 
liiiumed. m.v faith, th're is still left for me 
something to do. 

r.iii this reconstruction of i)oiitical econ 
omy has not been done. So I have thought 
it the nmst useful tiling I could do to drop 
as far as I could the work of propaganda 
and tile pr.actical carrying forward of the 
niovenient to do this. 

HENRY GEOROE. 



(vii) 



Take, since you bade it slioiikl bear. 
These, of the seed of your sowing- 
Blossom or berry or weed. 
Sweet though they be not, or fair. 
That the dew of your word kept growin 
Sweet at least was the seed. 

—Swinburne to Maz/.ini. 



(i>) 



GENERAL CONTENTS. 
General Introtlnc-tioii. 

Book I.— The Nature and Scope of 
Political Economy. 

Book II.— The Nature of Wealth. 

Book III.— The Production of Wealth. 

Book IV.— The Distribution of 
Wealth. 

Book v.— Of Money. 



(xi) 



For tlid' the (Jiaiit Agos heave the hill 

And break the shore, and evermore 
Make and break, and work their will; 
Tho' world on world in myriad niyriaih 
roll 
Konud us. each with different powers 

And other forms of life than ours, 
What know we greater than the soul? 

— Tennyson. 



(>•") 



REASONS OF THIS WORK. 



1 shall try in tli'is work to put In clear 
ami systematic form the main principles of 
political economy. 

The place I would take is not that of a 
teacher, who states what is to be believed, 
hut rather that of a guide, who points out 
what bj' looking is to be seen. So far from 
asking the reader blindly to follow me, I 
would urge him to accept no statement 
that he himself can doubt, and to adopt no 
conclusion untested by his own reason. 

This, I say, not in unfelt deprecation of 
myself mir in idle compliment to the read- 
er; but because of the nature antl [)resent 
condition of political economy. 

Of all the sciences, political ecounniy is 
that which to civilized men of to-day is of 
most practical importance. For it is the 
science which treats of the nature of wealth 
and the laws of its production and distribu- 
tion; that is to say. of matters which ab- 
sorb the larger part of the thought and 
effort of the vast majority of us — the get- 
ting of a living. It includes in its domain 
the greater part of those vexed questions 
which lie at the bottom of our politics and 
legislation, of our social and governmental 
theories, and even, in larger measure than 
may at first be supposed, of our philoso- 
phies and religions. It is the science to 
which must belong the solving of problems 
that at the close of a centur.v of the great 
est material and scientific development the 
world has yet seen, are in all civilized 
countries clouding the horizon of the fu- 
ture—the only science that can enable our 
civilization td escaiii' .-ilrcady threatening 
catastrophe. 



Yet. surpassing in its practical impor- 
tance as political economy is, he who to-day 
would form clear and sure ideas of what it 
reall.v teaches, must form them for him- 
self. For thei'e is no body of accepted 
truth, no consensus of recognized authority, 
that he ma.v without question accept. lu 
all other branches of knowledge properly 
called science the inquirer may find cer- 
tain fundamentals recognized by all and 
disputed by none who profess it, which he 
may safely take to embody the information 
and experience of his time. But. despite 
its long cultivation and the multitude of 
its professors, he cannot yet find this in po- 
litical economy. If he accepts the teaching 
of one writer or one school, it will be to 
find it denied by other writers and other 
schools. This is not merely true of the 
more complex and delicate questions, but of 
primary questions. Even on matters such 
as in other sciences have long since been 
settled, he who to-day looks for the guid 
ance of general acceptance in political 
economy will find a chaos of discord- 
ant opinions. So far indeed, are first 
principles from being agreed on, that it is 
still a matter of hot dispute whether pro- 
tection or free-trade is most conductive to 
prosperit.v— a question that in political 
economy ought to be capable of as certain 
an answer as in hydrodynamics the question 
whether a ship ought to be broader than 
she is long, or longer than she is broad. 

This is not for want of what passes for 
systematic study. Not only are no sub.iects 
.so widely and frequently discussed as those 
that come within the province of political 



(xiii) 



REASON OF THIS WORK. 



economy, but every university and college 
Las now its professor of the science, whose 
special business it is to stucl.y and to teach 
it. But nowhere are inadequac.v and con- 
fusion more apparent than in the writings 
of these men; nor is anything so likely to 
give the impression that there is not and 
cannot be a real science of political 
economy. 

But while this discordance shows that he 
who would really acquaint himself with 
political economy cannot rely upon author- 
ity, there is in it nothing to discourage 
the hope that he who will use his own rea- 
son in the honest search for truth may at- 
tain firm and clear conclusions. 

For in the supreni'e practical importance 
of political economy we may see the reason 
that has kept and still keeps it in dispute, 
and that has prevented the growth of any 
body of accepted and assured opinion. 

Under existing conditions in the civilized 
world, the great struggle among men is 
for the poseesgton of wealth. Would it not 
then be irrational to expect that the science 
which treats of the prodiiction and distri- 
bution of wealth should be exempt from 
the influence of that struggle? Macaulay 
has well said that if any large pecuniary 
interest were concerned in disputing the 
attraction of gravitation, the most obvious 
of all facts would not yet be accepted. 
What, then, can we look for in the teach- 
ing of a science which directly concerns 
the most powerful of "vested rights"— 
which deals with rent and wages and. inter- 
est, with taxes and tariffs, with privileges 
and franchises and subsidies, with cur- 
rencies and land tenures and public debts, 
with the ideas on which trade unions are 
based and the pleas by which combinations 
of capitalists are defended? Economic 
truth, under existing conditions, has not 
merely to overcome the Inertia of indo- 
lence or habit. It is in its very nature 
subject to suppressions and distortions 
from the influence of the most powerful 
and vigilant interests. It has not merely to 
make its way; it must constantly stand on 
guard. It cannot safely be trusted to any 
selected body of men, for the same reasons 
that the power of making laws and ad- 
ministering public affairs cannot be so 
trusted. 

It is especially true to-day that all large 
political questions are at bottom economic 
(piestions. There is thus introduced into the 



study of political economy the same 
disturbing element that setting men 
by the ears over the study of 
theology has written in bUtod a long 
page in the world's history, and that at one 
time, at least, so affected even the study 
of astronomy as to prevent the authorita- 
tive recognition of the earth's movement 
around the sun long after its demonstra- 
tion. The organization of political parties, 
the pride of place and power that they 
.irouse and the strong prejudices they kin- 
dle, are always inimical to the search for 
truth and to the acceptance of truth. 

And while colleges and universities and 
similar institutions, though ostensilily or- 
ganized for careful investigation and the 
honest promulgaton of truth, are not and 
i-aniiot be exempt from the influences that 
disturb the study of political economy, they 
.'ire especially precluded under present 
conditions from faithful and adequate 
treatment of that science. For in the pres- 
ent social conditions of the civilized 
world nothing is clearer than that tliere is 
some deep and widespread wrong in the 
distribution, if not in the production, of 
wealth. This it is the office of political 
economy to disclose, and a really faithful 
and honest explication of the scieuc(> must 
disclose it. 

But no matter what that injustice may 
be, colleges and universities, as at present 
constituted, are by the very law of their 
being precluded from discovering or re- 
vealing it. For no matter what be the na- 
ture of this injustice, the wealthy class 
must, relatively at least, profit by it, and 
this is the class whose views and wishes 
ilominate in colleges and universities. As, 
while slavery was yet strong, we might 
have looked in vain to the colleges and 
universities and accredited organs of edu- 
cation and opinion in our Southern States, 
and indeed for that matter in the North, 
for any admission of its injustice, so under 
present conditions must we look in vain to 
such sources for any faithful treatment of 
riolitical economy. Whoever accepts from 
them a chair of political economy must do 
so under the Implied stipulation that ho 
shall not really find what it is his profes- 
sional business to look for.* 

*0n this subiect, Adam Smith's opinion of col- 
leges and universities (Article II., I'art, III., Cliap- 
tev I., Book v.. Wealth of Nations) ma.v still be 
read with much advantage. 

In these extraneous difficulties, and not 
iu any difficulty inherent in political econ- 
omy itself, lies the rcas(jn why, to-day, after 



REASON OF THIS WORK. 



nil the ffl'ort that siuco Adam Smith wrote 
has beou devoted to iii investigation, or 
l)r(sumed iuvestigatiou, he who would 
really know what it teaches can tiud no 
consistent body of undisputed doctrine that 
he may safely accept; and can turn to the 
colleges and universities only with the cer- 
tainty that wherever else he may tind the 
truth, he cannot find it there. 

Yet, if political economy be the one sci- 
ence that cannot safely be left to special- 
ists, the one science of which it is needful 
for all to know something, it is also the 
science which the ordinary man may most 
I'asily study. It requires no tools, no 
aiiparatus, no special learning. The 
phenomena which it in\estigates need 
not be sought for in laboratories 
or libraries: they lie alMiut us, and are 
constantly thrust upon us. The principles 
oil which it builds are truths qf which we 
are all conscious, and (Tn which in t'very- 
(lay matters we constantly base our reason- 
ing and our actions. And its processes, 
which consist mainly in analysis, require 
only care in distinguishing what is essen- 
tial from what is merely accidental. 

Ill proposing to my readers to go with 
me in an attempt to work out the main 
principles of political economy, I am not 
asking them to think of matters they have 
never thought of before, but merely to 
think of them in a careful and systematic 
way. For we all have some sort of polit- 
ical economy. Men may honestly confess 
an ignorance of astronomy, of chemistry, 
of geology, of philolog.v, and really feel 
their ignorance. But few men honestly 
confess an ignorance of political economy. 
Though they may admit, or even proclaim 
ignorance, the.v do not really feel it. There 
are many who say that they know nothing 
of ptilitical economy — many indeed who do 
not know what the term means. Yet these 
very men hold at the same time and with 
the utmost confidence opinions upon 
matters that belong to political economy, 
such as the causes which affect wages 
and prices and profits, the effects of tariffs, 
the influence of labor-saving machinery, 
thei function and proper substance of 
money, the reason of "hard times, or "good 
times." and so on. For men living in so- 
ciety, which is the natural way for nieu 
to li\-e, must have some sort of jiolitico- 
economic theories— good or bad, right or 
wrong. The way to make sure that these 
theories are correct, ov if they are not 
correct, to supplant them by true theories. 



is by such systematic and <-areful iiivesti 
gation as in this work I propose. 

But to such an investigation there is one 
thing so necessary, one thing of such iiri- 
mary and Constance importance, that I cannot 
too soon and too strongly urge it upon the 
reader. It is, that in attempting the study 
of political economy we should first of all. 
and at every step, make sure of the mean- 
ing of the words that we use as its terms. 
so that when we use them they shall al- 
ways have for us the same meaning. 

Words are the signs or tokens by which 
in speech or writing we communicate our 
thoughts to one another. It is only as we 
attach a common meaning to words that 
Ave can communicate with one another by 
speech. And to understand one another 
with precision, it is necessary that we at- 
tach precisely the same meaning to the 
same word. Thus, two men maj' look on 
the ocean from the same place, and one 
honestly insist that there are three ships 
in sight, while the other as honestly in- 
sists that there are only two, if the one 
uses the word ship in its general meaning 
of navigable vessel, and the other uses it 
in its technical meaning of a vessel carry- 
ing three square-rigged masts. Such use 
of words in somewhat different senses is 
peculiarly dangerous in philosophic dis- 
cussion. 

But words are more than the means 
by which we communicate our thoughts. 
They are also signs or tokens in which 
we ourselves think— the labels of the 
thought drawers or pigeon-holes in which 
we stow away the various ideas that we 
often mentall.y deal with by label. Thus, 
we cannot think with precision unless in 
in onr own minds we use words with pre- 
cision. Failure to do this is a great cause 
of the generation and persistence of 
economic fallacies. 

In all studies it is important thai we 
should attach definite meanings to the 
terms we use. But this is especially im- 
portant in political economy. For, in 
other studies most of the words used as 
terms are peculiar to that study. The 
terms used in chemistry, for instance, are 
used only in chemistry. This makes the 
study of chemistry harder in beginning, 
for the student has to familiarize himself 
with new words. But it avoids subsequent 
(liWIculties. for these words being used 
only in chemistry their meaning is not 
likely to be warped by other use from the 



REASON OF THIS WORK. 



one ilcliuitc sense they properly bear iu 
chemistry. 

Now the words used in jiolitieal eoououiy 
are not words reserved to it. They are 
words ill I'very-day use. which the neces- 
sities of daily lite constantly require us 
to give to, and accept for. a different than 
the economic meaning. In studying politi- 
cal economy, in thinking out any of its 
problems, it is absolutely necessary to give 
to such terms as wealth, value, capital, 
land, labor, rent, interest, wages, money, 
and so on, a precise meaning; and to use 
them only in this— a meaning which al- 
ways differs, and in some cases differs 
widely, from the common meaning. But 
not only have we all been accustomed in 
the first place to use these words in their 
common meanings; but even after we have 
given tliem as politico-economic terras a 
definite meaning, we must, in ordinary 
talk and reading, continue to use and ac- 
cept them in their ordinary sense. 

Hence arises in political economy a 
liability to confusion iu thought from lack 
of defiuiteness in the use of terms. The 
careless as to terms cannot take a step 
without falling into this confusion, and 
even the usually careful are liable to fall 
into confusion if at any moment they relax 
their vigilance. The most eminent writers 
on political economy have given examples 
of this, confusing themselves as well as 
their readers by the vague use of a term. 



To guard .-ig.iiiist this danger it is neces- 
sary to be careful in beginning, and con- 
tinuously to be careful. I shall therefore 
in this work try to define each term as it 
.•irises, and thereafter, when using it as an 
economic term, try to use it in that i>re- 
cise sense, and in no other. 

To define a word is to mark off what it 
includes from what it does not include — 
to make it in our minds, as it were, clear 
and sharp on its edges — so that it will 
always stand for the same thing or things, 
not at one time mean more and at an- 
other time less. 

Thus, beginning at the beginnings, let us 
consider the nature and scope of political 
economy, that we may see its origin and 
meaning, what it includes and what it does 
not include. If in this I ask the reader 
to go with me deeper than writers on po- 
litical economy usfually do, let him not 
think me wandering from the subject. He 
who would build a towering structure of 
brick and stone, that iu stress and strain 
will stand firm and plumb, digs for its 
fcnuidation to solid rock. 

Should we grudge such pains in laying 
the foundations of a great science, on 
which in its superstructure so much must 
rest ? 

In nothing more than in philosophy is it 
wise that we should be, "like a man which 
Imilt a house, and digged deep, and laid 
the foundation on a rock." — Luke, vi.. 4S. 



BOOK I 



THE MEANING OF 



POLITICAL ECONOMY, 



■riifuiuii lii;t an aloiii iiiiilsi iuiuiciisil y. 
Slill I am sinnctliiiiu'. fasliioncil liy Tliv 
lianii: 
I liiilil a luidillc rank 'Iwixl licavrn and 
I'arlli — 
On tLu' last voTge of nuji-lal bein;;- stand 
Close to the realms where anjiels have, their 
birth. 
Just on the boundaries of the spirit land! 
The chain of being is oomplcle in n\c— 

In me is matter's last gradation Inst. 
And the :iext step is spirit— Deity ! 

I can command the lightning, and am dn-t : 
—Browning's translation of 1 >(rglia\in. 



(xviii) 



INTRODUCTION TO BOOK I. 



The earliest, and as I think suthcient, 
definition of Political Economy, is, the 
science that treats of the nature of wealth, 
and of the laws of its production and dis- 
tribution. But as this definition seems 
never to have been fully understood and 
adhered to by the accepted teachers of po- 
litical economy, and has during late years 
been abandoned by those who occupy the 
position of oflScial teachers in all our lead- 
ing colleges and universities, let us, begin- 
ning at the beginnings, endeavor to see for 
ourselves just what ixilitical economy is. 



(xix) 



BOOK T. 



CHAPTER I. 



The Three raetors of the AVorld. 

SHOWING THE CONSTITUENTS OF 
ALL WE PERCEIVE. 



Meaning of "Factor" and of "Philoso- 
phy" and of "the World" — V/hat We 
Call Spirit — What We Call Matter — What 
We Call Energy — Though These Three 
May Be at Bottom One, We Must Sep- 
arate Them in Thought — Priority of 
Spirit. 

The Wdi-tl factor, iu coiiiiiiercial use, means 
one who acts as a^'eut foi- another. In 
mathematical use, it means one of the 
quantities wliich multipliert together form 
a priMio^-t. Hence in philosophy, whicli 
ma.v b'' derined as the search for the nature 
and relations of thinns. the worrl factor 
affords a rit term for the elements which 
bring abii\it a result, or the categories into 
wliicli •■m.-ilys's enables us to classify these 
elemcn:-^. 

In the wdrhl— I use the term iu its phil- 
osophi'- sense of the aggregate or system 
of things of wliich we are ccignizant and 
of whieh we oursehes are part— we aic 
enabled by analysis to distingtiish three 
elements or factors: 

1. That whii-h fee'.;. ]]ercii\es, thinks. 
W'ils; wliicli to disti)! ;nish. we call mind 
or s(Uil uY sjdrit. 

"2. T'hat winch Ins a i lass or weight, and 
extei'.sbiii (,!• torni: whicli to distinguish. 
wt- ca'! matter. 

:;. 'I'l::!! which aclinu (Hi iii.-ittcr pi-oduces 
UHpvciicvt : whi(di III di-;! inmiish. we c.ill 
motiiiu 111- force (ir en -rgy. 

Vi'e (•.•niinif. in trntli. dirc<-tl\- rccngnizc 
energy ajiart from matter; imr matter with- 
out sosiic manifestation of ciicrizy: nm- mind 
or sidiit unconjoin-d wiili matter .ind mo- 
ficiu. I""!,!- thoULih iiiir nwn cimsciiMisness 
may :c-r!fy to lun- nwii essentially siiiritnal 
nature, nr e\-i n at time.-:, tn wh.-it we take 
to be direct evicence of pure sidritmii 
e.\iste!ii-e. yet consciousness itself begins 
with U.s Miily after bodily life h;ls already 
begun, Jiiul memory by whiidi almie we 
can recall past consciousness is later still 
iu appearing. It may be that what we call 
niMfter is bur a form of energy; and it may 
perhajjs Ij'. that what we call energy is but 



a manifest.-itiiin uf wliat we call mind or 
sou', iir siiirit: and siune have even held 
tlMt from matter and its inherent powers 
a 1 (dse originates. Yet though they may 
nut be in fact separab/e by us, and though 
ir may be that at bottoiu they are one, we 
are coini)ene'i in thought to distinguish 
these tliree as independent, separable ele- 
ments, which in their actions and reac- 
tiotis make r,i) the world as it is presenteii 
to eur perception. 

Of these from our staudpoiut, that which 
feels, perceives, thinlis, wills, comes first in 
order of priority, for it is this which Is 
first in our own consciousness, and it is 
only through this that we have conscious- 
ness of any other existence. In this, as 
our owu consciousness testifies, is the 
iniliative of all our own motions and 
movements, so f.ir as consciousness and 
memory shed light: and in all cases in 
w hich we can trace thi' genesis of anything 
111 its beginning we fiml that beginniiiL:' iu 
tlionght and will. So clear, so indisputable 
is the priority of this si)iritual element 
tliat wherever .-uid whenever men lla^"e 
Sdughr to acciiunt for the origin of the 
world tlley ha\-e alw.iys been driven to .as- 
sume a great spirit or (iod. For though 
tliere lie atheistic theories, they always 
avoid tlie ipu'stion of ori'jiii. and .-issunie 
the world always to have been. 



CHAPTER II. 



>!jiii. His Plaee anil Powers. 

SHOWING OUR RELATIONS TO THE 
GLOBE, AND THE QUALITIES THAT 
ENABLE US TO EXTEND OUR 
KNOWLEDGE OF IT AND POWERS 
ON IT. 

Man's Earliest KnovJedge of His Hab- 
itat — How That Knowledge Grows, and 
What Civilized Men Now Know of It — 
The Essential Distinction Between Man 
and Other Animals — In This Lies His 
Power of Producing and Improving. 

A\'e awake to consciousness to find our- 
sidves. clothed in flesh, and in company 
witli otlier like beings, resting on what 
seems to us a plane surface. Above us, 
when tlie clouds do not conceal them, the 
sun shines by day and the uioou and stars 



THE vSCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY 



by night. Of what this place is, aucl of 
our relations to it, the first men probably 
knew little more than is presented to us 
in direct consciousness, little more in fact 
than the animals know; and. individually, 
we ourselves could know little more. But 
the observations and reflections of many 
succeeding men, garnered and systema- 
tized, enable us of the modern civilization 
to know, and with the eyes of the mind 
almost to see, things to which the senses 
untaught by reason are blind. 

By the light of this gathei-ed knowledge 
we behold ourselves, the constantly chang- 
ing tenants of the exterior of a I'evolving 
sphere, circling around a larger and lumi- 
nous sphere, the sun, and beset on all sides 
by dejiths of space, to which we can 
neither find nor concei^•e of limits. Through 
this immeasurable space revolve myriads 
of luminous bodies of the nature of our 
sun, surrounded, it is contidcnlly inferred 
from the fact that we know it lo be the 
case with onr sun. by lesser, non-luminous 
bodies that have in them their centres of 
revolution. 

Our sun. but one. and far from one cjf 
the largest, of eonntless similar orbs, is 
the centre of light and heat and revolu- 
tion to eight princinal satellites, (having 
in their turn, satellites of their own,) as 
well as to an indefinite number of more 
nunute bodies known to ns as .isteroids and 
of more err.-itie Itodirs called comets. Of 
the principal satellites of the sun, the thira 
in point of distance from it, and the fourth 
in point of size, is our earth. It is in con- 
stant movement around the sun. and in 
constant revolution on its own axis, while 
its satellite, the moon, also revolving on 
its own axis, is in constant movement 
around it. The sun itself, revolving too on 
its own axis, is, wi . all its attendant 
bodies, in constant movement around some, 
pr(d)ably, moving point in the universe 
which astronomers have not .vet been able 
to determine. 

Thus we find oursehes. on the surface 
of a globe seemiuglv fixed, but rcallv in 
constant motion of so many different 
kinds that it would l)e impossible 
with our i)ri'sent knowledge to 

make -A diagram iixlicating its real nmve- 
ment throngh sjiace ;it any point— a glolie 
large to us, yet only as a grain of sand on 
the seashore compared with the bodies and 
spaces of the universe of which it is a 
part. We find ourselves on the surface of 
this ceaselessly moving gIol)e. as passen- 
gers, brought tliere in utter insensibility. 



they know not how or whence, might find 
themselves on the deck of a ship, moving 
they knew not where; and who see in the 
distance similar ships, whether tenanted or 
bow tenanted they can only infer and 
gness. The inmieastirably great lies be- 
.\(nul ns, and .-iliout and beneath us the im- 
nieasnr.-ibly small. The microscope reveals 
infinitudes no less startling to onr minds 
Iliai! does the telescope. 

Here we are. depili upon dc])tli about us. 
c.Mitined to till' bottom of that sea of air 
which en\-e]o|)s the suTface of this moving 
iilolie. In it we live and breathe and are 
constantly- immersed. AVere onr Imigs to 
cease taking In and pumping out this air. 
or onr bodies relieved of its jiressure, we 
slionid die. 

Small as our glolie seems in the light of 
•■isl roniiiny. it is not really of the whole 
i;'olic tliat we are tenants, but only of a 
pan of its snrf.-ice. .\bove this mean sur- 
face, nu'U have only found it possible with 
tiie utnn^st effort and fortitude to a.scend 
siiuielhing less than seven miles; below it 
onr deeiiest mi)iing shafts do not piwrce a 
mile, Thns tlie extreuu' limits in depth 
and liciglir to wliicli man may occrisiimally 
.■i(l\-cntnre though not iicrmain'urJy live, 
are hardly eight miles. In round numbers 
the globe is S.OOO miles in diameter. Thus 
tli<' skin of the thinnest-skinned apple gives 
no iilc.-i of tin' relative thinness of rhe zone 
of pcrpcndicul.-ir distance to which man is 
i-oiitinc<l. .Vnd three-fourths of the surface 
of the globe at its .iunction with the air is 
co\ei-ed by water, on winch, though man 
may pass. h<' cannot dwell; while eonsid- 
I rahlc p.-irts of wliai remain are made in- 
.-icccssible by ice. T.ikc a bridge of hair is 
the line rif temperature th.at we must keep. 
ln\-c-itigators tell us of the existence of 
temjieratnres tlnnisands of degrees above 
zero and thous;inds of degrees below zero. 
I',nt man's body must maintain the con- 
stant level of a fraction over 0*^ degrees 
alio\-i' zei'o. A rise or fall of seven degrees 
cither way from this level and he dies. 
Willi the pei-uianent rise or fall of a few 
more degrees in the mean tempei-arure of 
tlie ,-urfaCe of the glolx" it would become 
uiiinlniliitable liy us. 

.Vnd whib' all alimit us. e\eu what si'ems 
tirmest, is in constant change and motion. 
so is it with ourselves. These liodies of 
,inrs are in re.-ility like the flame of a gas 
burner, whicli has continmms and defined 
form, lint only as the m.inifestation of 
changes in a stream of succeeding iia-.ticles. 



:man, his place and powers. 



n 



;iliil wliicli (lis:ip|icnfs llic iiiiiiiii'lit llinl 
.sti-oam is ciil (ilT. What llirrc is real ami 
ilisliiic-ti\(' in us is ilial in wiiicli we may 
;;i\(' a name hut caumit cxiilain mu' easily 
(It'tiiic— tha t which .uivcs tu cliau.uiu^- niattcr 
aiKl irassinu motion tlu' pliase ami form of 
man. r>nr our ijodios and our pliysii'al pow- 
ors |lu'mscl\-cs, lil<c tlie form and iiowcr of 
till' uas flame, arc only passin^■ manifcsta- 
rions <if that inilt'st ructiljic matter ami eter- 
nally pulsing fut'i'sy of \\hii;h the univei'se 
so far as it is tan.uible to rs is made up. 
Stop the air that overy instant is drawn 
through our lungs and we cease to livo. 
Stop the- food and drink that s"r\-e to us 
the same jiurpose as coal and ^\ater to the 
steam engine, and. as eert.ai'ily. if mor'> 
slowly, the same result follows. 

In ;ili this, man rescmliles the oilier ani 
iiials that with iiiiii ten.-im the superficies 
ef I he same i-artli. I'hysically he is merely 
such an animal, in form and structuri' and 
]iriniary ne<Mls closely allied to tPe mam- 
malia, with whose sjiecies he is zooNigic.all.v 
classified. \\"ere man only an animal he 
would be hut an inferior anim.-il. Nature 
has not gi\en him the powers ami weapons 
whicli enalde other animals rc,-idily to 
secure their food. Nor \v\ has she gi\en 
him the coveriiii;' which protects them. 
Had he lik<' them no power of providing 
hinisfdf wi'h .-irritici.-M clothing, man could 
not e.xist in many of the regions h(> now 
inhabits, lie could live only in llie most 
genial anil ei|ll;i!il" |i;iris of the globe. 

IJiit man is more than an animal. Though 
in ph.vsical equipuH'Ut ho nni.v in nothing 
surpass, and in some things fall below other 
nima.s. in mental ,'quipment he is- so vastly 
superior ;is t.i take him -iiu of their class, 
and to make him llie lord and master of 
them .-111— to make him veritably, of all that 
we nia.v si'e. "the roof .and crown of 
tilings." .\iid what more i-h-arly iierhajis 
than .all else imlic.iles ilie d(>ep gulf wliiidi 
sep.-irates him from all oilier animals is' 
that he ,-iloii(- of .-ill ani.iiais is Ihc pro- 
ducer, or bringer forth, and in thai sense a 
maker. In this is a difference which ren- 
ders the distinction betwi'cn the highest 
.animal .-iiid Ihc lowest man one not of 
ilegice hut of kind, and wliii-h. linked with 
the .animals tliough he be. justities tin- 
d.ccl;ir;itioii of I he Ilcln'ew Scripture, that 
man is created in Hie likeness of the .\11- 
Maker. 

Consider tliis distinction: We know of no 
race of iihmi so low that they do not raise 
fruits or \-egetaIiles or doineslicati' and 
hrcM'd .-niimals: ih;,i do not cook food: thai 



ilo not fashion weapons; that do not con- 
struct liabitations; that do not make for 
ihenisidves garments: that do not adorn 
liieinsehes or their belongings with orna- 
mentation: that d.) not show at least the 
rude beginnings nf drawing and painting 
and siailpture and music. In all the tribes 
of animated nature below man there is not 
tile slightest indication of the power thus 
shown. Xo animal save man ever kindled 
a lire or cooked a meal, or madt' a tool or 
fashioned a weaiion. 

It is line that the squirrel hiiles nuts: 
that birils buihl nests: that the beaver 
daiiK streams: that bees construct combs, 
in which they store the honey they extract 
from tlowers: that spiders weave webs; that 
one species of aiits are said to milk insects 
of another kimi. All this is true, .iust as it 
is ••il-'^'> true ihat there are birds whose 
melody far surpasses the best music of the 
sa\age, and that on tribes below man na- 
ture hnishes an adornment of attire that in 
laste as well as lirilliai.cy snrpasst's the 
meretricious adornments of primitive man. 

lUit in all this there is nothing akin to the 
faculties which in these things man dis- 
plays. What man ihies, lie does by taking 
thought, by consciously ad.iusting .means to 
ends. He does it by adapting and contriv- 
ing and e.\periiiicnting and copying: by 
effort after effort and trial after trial. 
What he does, and his ways of doing it, 
\ary with the individual, witli s^jcial de- 
\-elopiiieiit, with time and place and sur- 
roiinilings. and witli what he sees others do. 

r.ut llie squirrel hides its nuts; the birds 
after their orders Ijuilt their nests, and in 
due time force their young to fly; the beaver 
constructs its dam: the bees store their 
li(me.\-; the spiders wea\-e, and tlie ants d(> 
the win-k of their societies, A\-ithoat taking 
IhoiiLihl. \'-itliout toilsomel.v scheming for 
Ihc adapt ing .of iiie.-ius to ends; without 
exiicrimcnt iiig or cojiying or imiuming. 
What they do of such things. the.\- do not 
iis oiiLiinalols who ha\-e disco\-ered how 
to do it: nor .vet as learners or imitators or 
c-opyisls. They do it. first as well as last, 
iiiifall ciingly ami iiialteringiy, forgetting 
iioihinu .ind iiiipro\iiig in nothing. They do 
it, iioi by reason but by instinct: by an im- 
pulse inhering in their nature which 
proiiiiits them without jierplexit.v or trial 
on ilieir part to go so far, Init gives them 
no power to go further, The,v do it as the 
hinl sings, or the dog barks, as the hen sits 
on her eggs or the (diick picks its way front 
the shell to scratch the ground. 
.X.aliire proxicles for all li\iiig ihiiigs lie- 



24 



TPir: SCIKNCK OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



lU'jitli man by implant iiiu in iliciu liliinl 
.strDiis iinpnl.ses \\hicli ar pnipi'i' limcs ami 
seasons prompt lliciii lu ilo wlial it is 
necessary they slionlil do. i'.til to man slie 
};rants only sncli iuiprllinus of instinct as 
that wiii.-h pi-oni]its the niotlier to press the 
new liom hahe lo her hn asl ami ihe hahe 
to snckle. With ex<-i>pl i(nis snch as these. 
she willidraws from man her :;iiiclinu; iiower 
and leaves liini to himself. l'\i.- in him a 
higher itower has aiisen and locdcs out on 
the Wdl'Id— a power that seiiarat".^ hlui frrmi 
the lirnie as clcarl\- aiir, as wisidy as ilic 
hrut<' is se]iaraleil froin the clod- n power 
that has in it the |)oicncy of prodncin-. of 
niakin;:. of cansinu tilings ro be; a power 
that seeks to \iH<k b.-ick into the i)ast eiv 
the s'lnlic was. and to }«;■]■ inio tiie fotnre 
when it will cease to exist, .-i power that 
looks on Xat lire's show with curiosity like 
that witli \\hich an ai)prentice iniLiht s<'an 
a master's work, and will ask why tides iitn 
aiul winds blow, ami how suns .-nnl st.Ms 
h;ive been put together. .\ [lowcr tli.it in its 
bejiinnin.ys lacks the certainty and prompt- 
ness of instinct, mil which. tiion,i;h intinilcly 
lower in decree, ninst yet in smiic sort he 
akin to that from which all things |)ro- 
ceed. 

As tliis iiower. which wc c.-ill re.-ison. 
rises in man. n.-iliirc w it hdr.-i ws Ihe li-ht <<f 
instinct and le;i\es him to his own devices 
—to rise or fall, to soar above tlo' iiriiie or 
to sink lower. For as the Hebrew Scriptures 
liave phrased it. his ,.ycs .-ire opi^ned and be- 
fore him are -ooil .-md ,.\ii. tI;,, ability 
to fall, no less than the ability to rise 
— the very failures and mistakes 
and iierversities of man- show his place and 
powers. Tlie!-e is anions t!;e Icailes lio 
drunkenness, no iit.na ! iir.i! \ iic. u,, wasl,' 
of elTorr in aecoiu|ilishin,i;- injurious rcsiiiis, 
^no wanton sh-iuuhtcr of theii' own luini, n,, 
\Naiit .imid ph-iMy. W'l- may conci'ivc of 
beings in the form of man. wlio, liki' these 
animals, should be ruled iiy siKdi idc-ir and 

stroim- instincts that .a n- them .-ilso iliere 

would be no liability lo snch ],erversi,M.s. 
Yet siicdi bein.irs would not be men. Th. y 
■would l.-ick thi> essenti.al cdi.-i r;ii-|er .and 
lii.shpsf powers of m.ui. Fitted |,erfectly to 
their <'iiviroiinient they iiiisht be hajipy in 
a way. Hut it would he as the f li!l-t"> d 
hotr is hapjiy. The pleasure of making, the 
.ioy of o\ercoiiiin};-. the glory of rising, iio\\- 
could they exist for such boiugs'; That man 
is not ritted for his environment sh iw.-- his 
higher quality. In him is tliat wliiidi as- 
jiires— and still asiiires. 



I'hidowed with reason, and deprived, or all 
but dcjMivi'd. of instinct, man differs from 
'llier .animals in being the iirodu<-er. i..ike 
I hem. for insl.ance. he reiiuiics food. I'.iil 
while 1lie anim.als get their f 'od liy taking 
wh.al Ihe.v find, .iiid are tlins limited by 
wh;il they find ; Iready in e\istence. mat. 
has the Iiower of getting his food by btmg- 
inu- it into e\-i>tem-e. tie is llius . nai;'cil 
to obtain food ju greacor variety and in 
larger (plant it\. The amount of grass 
limits the number of w iai cattle. ' lie 
aniouii! of their iiicy limits the numbc:- 
of carnixdra: but man caiisis gi'.'isses and 
grains and frails to giow where they did, 
iHit grow befoie; he breeds animals on 
which In fi'cd-. And so it is with tlie lul- 
riluieiit (d' ,ill his wants: the satisfaction 
of all his desires, i!y the use of his aniiiial 
powers, man can cover perh.iiis as niiicii 
gidiind in a day as can a horse or a dog: he 
c.in cross perhaps about as wide a stream. 
I'.ni by \ iiiiie of the power that makes iiim 
the iiroducer he is already spanning ci/iiti- 
lo'iils .111(1 oceans with a speed. ;i certainty 
and an case that not ev. n the birds id' most 
powerful wing a.iid swiflesi iliglit e.-ui li'.al. 

CHAPTER III. 
Ho^v Xiiii'.s I»«>«-ers Are K.\<«'ml«'il. 

SHOWING THAT THEIR USE OF REA- 
SON WELDS MEN INTO THE SO- 
CIAL ORGANISM, OR ECO- 
NOMIC BODY. 

Extension of Man's Powers in Civiliza- 
tion — Due Not to Improvement in the 
Individual but in the Society — Hobtaes's 
"Leviathan" — The Greater Leviathan — 
Tl-iis Capacity for Good Also Capacity 
for Evil. 

.Man. as we lia\c an.\- knowledge ol him. 
either in the ]iresent ov in tlie past, is al- 
ways man. differin,:;' frinii other animals in 
the same way. feeling the same essential 
needs. ino\ cd by Ihe same essential desires, 
and ]iossessed (d' the same essential powers. 
\i'\. between in.-in in the jowesl sa\-agei-y 
and man in the highest ci\ili/.atioii how 
\-ast Ihe difference in the ability of s.-itis- 
fying these needs and desires by the US(. of 
these powers. In food, in raiment, in shel- 
tca-: in tocds ;ind \veap(His: in e.isc of move- 
ment and of transportation: in medicine 
and siirger.\-: in music and the reiireseuta- 
tive arts: in the width of his hori/on; in 
the (.xleiil and iirecisimi of the knowled.ge 



now MAWS I'OWHRS ARE HXTRNDHD 



25 



.■II lii^ srrvicc-llic iii.-ui wiM. is five to tin. \\u. js short. Wli.-it .•i(lvan<-..s \v,.iil,l |„. [...s- 

nclviinlajrcs of tl^c i-ivili/,:iii(,ii of to-day is sihl,. if nicii woiv isoi.-itcc] from cadi o;hcr 

:is M lu'in- of hinlirr order compared to the aii,| ,,)if -onor.-ii icii separated from the 

iii.aii wImi was ehilhed in siciiis or Ic'MVfs. next .as ;ire tlie ueiier.at ion-- of tlie seven- 

wliose ii.-,ldtatioii was .a caxc or nide lint. teen-year locusts? 'I'hi. litth' sncdi iiid.i- 

who.'c liest to<d a (diipjied tliiil. whose ho.at ^•idn,l;s mi,i;lM .UMiii divrini;- their own lives 

a h.dlowed lou. whose weaiions the how w.mld he '.osf with them. Each generation 

and arrows, and whose horizon was bound- would \i;\vr |i, benin from the startin.i;- 

ed. as to the past, by trib.al tr.adition. and pl.aee of their predecessors, 

as to (.le present by the mioiiit.iins or se.i- I'-nl man is more than .-in iiidi\i(:T !. 

shore .if Ills immediate home and the "'' is also a social animal, formed .-ml 

ar(died (hmie which seemed to him shut adapled i,i li\-e ai'd co-opera:e with his 

it in. Ii'llows. It is ill tliis line of so;-:al de- 

lUit if we analyze the way in which these veloimieiit that the ,yr(>.al increase id' iihan's 

extensions of man's power cd' .i:-ettin,i;' and ki'owhd.-e and powers t.ikcs place, 

niakiii-- ;in,l knowinu' and (hdii;:- .are s'.ained. '''" slowness with whicdi we attain abil- 

we shall see that they come, not from ''■^' to care for onrsidves and the (pialitk'S 

(diaii-es in the indiviibial man. but from ineident to our higher gifts involve an over- 

the union (d' individual p.iwers. Cmsider I'M'piii.g of iiidiyiduals that continues and 

,oie ,,!' those sfamships now crossing the •■xteiids the family relation beyond the 

Atl.anlic at .a rate of over five liimdrecl "'"'f''' '^'^'''^ °^^'^''' among other mam- 



miles ii day. Consider the co-operation of 



iiialia. And, beyond this relation, common 



men in gathering knowledge, in nc(,uiring "'''''l^' ^"""'"" Perceptions and like desires, 

skill, in' bringing together materials, in ""•'"'- ""'""" creatures endowed with rea 

fashioning and managing the whole great ■'"'" ""'^ «lcveloping speech, lead to .a m- 

oper.ition of effort that even in its crudest 



structure: consider the docks, the store- 
houses, the bi-,au(diing (diaunels of trade, 
tile i-orrelation id' desires reaching over 
Euroiie and America and extending to the 
\-ery ends of tile e.irtli. which the regular 
criis>iiiu of the iiccaii by studi a steamship 



forms gives to man powers that place him 
far above tlie beasts and that tend to 
weid individual men into a social body, a 
larger entit.v. wliich has a life and (diarac- 
ter of its own, and continues its existence 
wliih' its compinients idiange, just .as the 



invoive.s. Without this i-o-operation su.di a |i,v ,.,,nl ch.ai act,.ristics of our bodily tram 



<tean!sl',ip would not be iiossibh 
There is nothing wliatever to show that 



conlinue. though the .atoms of which it is 
im]iosed are consl.intl.v iiassi.ig away 



the men who to-day build and navig.itc ,aml ji.,,,,, jt ^nd as constantly being replaced, 

use such ships .are one whit superior in any i., is in this social body, this larger 

physical or mental iiuality to their ances- eiuity. of whicli individuals are the atoms, 

tors, whose liest vess.d was a coracle of ijiat the extensions of human power which 

wicker and hide. The enormous iiii])rove- mark the adv.ance of civilization are 

niiail '■hich these sh'ps show is not an im- s-cuied. The rise nf civilization is the 

priM eiiiciU of liunian n.ature: it is an im- growth of this co-niieratiou and the in- 

liriivenicnt of society -il is doe to .a wider. crease of the body ef knowledge thus ob- 

fuller union of iiidi\idu;il (dforts in the .ac- l.aiiied and g;irnered. 

coniplishineni of common emls. rerhaps 1 can lietter point mit what I 

To cnnsider in like lo.aiKier any one of mean liy an ilhistr.ition: 

the uriny .lud gi'e.at aihaiiccs wliicdi ci\il- The famous treatise in whicli the I'higlisli 

i/.ed man in uur time has ni.ide o\-er the philosopher Ilobbes, durin.g tile revolt 

power of the s,a\-.age. is to see th.it it has ag.iiiist the tyranny of the Stuarts in the 

been ::,iined. and coiKd on:.\- lia\e been se\-ei' teen th ciiitury. simght to give the 

n'.ained. by the wideidng co-oiici'at ion of sanction of reason to the doctritie of the 

iiidi\-idu.a ! idTort. .absolute authority of kings, is entitled 

■J'he iiowers of the indixidiial ni.m I'u not •■J.eviathan." Ft thus liegins: 



indeed reacli their full limit when maturity 
is once attained, as do those of the animal: 
btn. ;lie highest of them at least, .are cap- 



N;itme, the art whereby (Jod hath made and 
governs tlie .world, is by the art of man, as in 
many other things, so in this also imitated, tliat 



able of increasing dev(dopmeut up to the ^ ^.-^^ ,n.^)je an artilicial animal * * * For by art 
physical decay that comes with age. if not j;. created that great Leviathan called a common- 
tip to the vi-rge of the grave. Yet, at best, wealth or state, in Latin ■•ci\itas," which is but 
nian's individual powers are small .and his an artiticial man; though of greater statme and 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



strength than tlif natural, fnr wlioso pintotticni and 
defence it was intended: and in wliicb the sover- 
eignty is an artificial sonl. as giving life and 
motion to the whole hody; the ma'.'istrates and other 
officers of jndicatrn'e and execntlon, artificial joints: 
leward and punishment, by which fastened to the 
seat of the sovereignty every .ioint and member is 
mo^ed to perform his duty, are the nerves, that do 
the same in the body natural: the wealth and riches 
of all the particular members, are the strengtli : 
"salus populi." the people's safety, its business: 
counsellors by whom all things needful for it to 
know are suggested unto it. are the memory: equity 
and laws, an artificial reason and will : concord, 
health; sedition, sickness; and civil war, deatli. 
Lastly, the pacts and covenants, by whicli the parts 
of this body politic were at first made, set together. 
and united, resemble that fiat, or tiie "let us make 
man." pronounced l;y ('.od in tlie creation. 

"Without sto])))!!!-- iidw 111 rdimnciil fui'ilicr 
oil Holihps's sti,i;'_'csti\-(' ;iii,-il(iy-y, tlicro is, 
it seems to inc. in tlic s.vstciii (u- ;nT,ni.ii("- 
m.nit into wliic-li men ni-e hrniiiilu in <iici;il 
life, h.v tlie effort to s.-itisf.v their ni,it('ri;il 
desires— an integration wliieh .ijoes im as 
fivilization ailvance.s— somelliins whicli even 
more stronsl.v and more elearl.v siiairests 
the idea of a jrijjantie man. formed li.v 
the union of individual men. than ;in.v 
merely poliiical integration. 

This (ii-cater Leviathan is to the political 
structure or cdnscions commonwc.alth what 
the uncmisciiius functions of tlic body are 
to the conscious activities. It is not madi- 
l>,v pact and covenant, it .urows; as the 
tree grows, as the man himself grows, h.v 
virtue of natural laws inherent in Unman 
nature and in the constitution of things: 
and the laws whicli it in turn olie.vs, tlirmgli 
their manifestations m.iy he retarded or 
prevented hy jiolitici] ailion ai-e ihemselves 
utterly indeiieiidcnl of if, and take no note 
whatever of iiolitical divisions. 

It is this natural system or arrangement, 
this ;!d.justmeiil of iiii.,-ins lo ends, of the 
l>arts to the wliolc^ .•imj the whole to the 
parts, in the satisf.-iction (.f the materi;il 
desires of men living in society, which, in 
the same sense as that In which we speak 
of the ec(momy of tlie solar system, is the 
economy of hniiian society, or what in 
Kngli.sh we call i.oliiicnl economy. It is 
as human units, individn.-ijs or families, 
take their place as integers of this higher 
man. this Creatcr I.eviatliau. that what w- 
call civilization liegiiis .ind .ndvanccs. 

lint in this ,-is in other things, tic ca- 
pacity for good is also capacity for evil, and 
pre.iudices. superstitions, erroneous beliefs 
and injurious customs iii;iy in the same 
w;iv lie so peipelnaied .-is to torn what is 



I lie gre.-itest potem-y of advance into its 
greatest obstacle, and to engender degrtida- 
tion out of the very possibilities of eleva- 
tion. .\iid it is well to remember th;ii tlie 
poslliilities of degrad.ation and deterioiai i in 
seem .IS clear as the possibilities of ad- 
vaiKc. Ill no race and at no place li.is tlie 
ad\;ince of man been continuous. At the 
present time, while European civilization 
is .-idNancing, the ma.jority of niiinkiml seem 
slat ionar.N- or retrogressive. And while 

e\-en llie lowest | pies of whom We have 

kiiowleilge show in siiiiie things advances 
oN'cr what we infer must have been maiTs 
primiii\e condition, yet it is at the same 
lime true that in other tilings they also 
sliow deteriorations, ;ind that even the 

st higlily advanced peoples seen in some 

things below what we best imagine to have 
been as the original state of man. 



CHAPTER IV, 

ri% iliy.ation— \Vlisit It ^It'sin.x, 

SHOWING THAT CIVILIZATION CON- 
SISTS IN THE WELDING OF MEN 
INTO THE SOCIAL ORGANISM OR 
ECONOMIC BODY, 

Vagueness as to What Civilization Is — 
Guizot Quoted — Derivation and Original 
Meaning — Civilization and the State — 
Why a Word Referring to the Precedent 
and Greater Has Been Taken from One 
Referring to the Subsequent and Lesser. 



The word civilization is in common use. 
r.iit it is used with va.gue and varying 
ineanings, which refer to the (lualities or 
results tli.it we attribute to the tiling, 
r.itl'cr tlitin to i lie thing itself the existence 
or possiiiility <if which we tlius assume. 

Sometimes our expressed or iiiiplieil test 
of civilization is in the methods of iir 
(lilstry jiiid ciintrol of natural forces. Some- 
linies it is in the extent .and dilTusion of 
knowledge. Souietiiiies in tlie kilidlinesv 
of manners .ami .instice and beiiignit.N' of 
laws and insi it iit ions. .Sometimes it m.-iy 
he suspected tliaj we Use the word as do 
I he Chinese when the.v class as barbaritins 
all hiiminit.x' outside of tlie "Ceutr!!! I'low- 
cry Kingdom." And there is point in the 
s;itire ',\iiic]i tells how men who had lost 
Iheir w.iy in the wilderness, exi-laimeil at 
lePuth when tlie.\- reai'lieda prison. "Tli.ink 
Coil, we .-ire at last in civilizati<iii I" 

This dillii-iilty in determining .iust wh.af 
e;\ iliz.-ition is. does not pertain to common 
sjK h .alone, but is felt by tlie best writers 



CIX'lLIZAriON— WHAT IT MICANS. 27 

nil The siibjcrt. 'I'lnis I'.iic-UIi', in llic fwn rix'i ,i/,:i tinii. ir im'o'.ves Mini prcsuiipnst's 

i:re:it volnnies ol' tlic i;i'iMM-:il iiitriiilnctiDii cixi .iz.i tini\ 

to his "History of Civiliza tiim in I^nu'and.'' .\iiil in t lie same way tlic cliaractri- of tlic 

\\iiich was all !iis niiliintlx- dcatli iicrniit Stair, tlic natiiri' <]f the laws and insti- 

tt'd him to coniiilrtc. ui\i's us his view nf nitimis wiiirli it enacts and enforces, indi- 

what cixilizatioii depends mi. what infin cale ihe ciiararfer nf the niulerlyin,a; ei\- 

eiu-es it. \\'l)at proniotes or retards it; hnt ilizitinii. I^'er while civili/cation is a .i,'en- 

doos not venttirc to say what civilixa tinn i^. era: c(]ii iiieii. a id we speak of mankind 

And tbtts (Jnizot. in iiis "Cener.al History as civilized, liaif eivijzed or nnoivilizeil 

i)f Civilization in Modern T^nrope." sa.vs of .\ 1 I we rcconnize indixidtial differences i'l 

civilization itself: ilo' ciiaiacii risi ics of a civilization, as we 

recognize dil'i'iji'inces in the eharacteristi<-s 



if a Siat(^ or in tlie characteristics of a 



It i.s so fj^niernl in its natniu that il can scaicvly 
he seized: so complicated that it can scarcely be 

unravelled: so hidden as scarcely to he discevnible. '"■'"■ ^'' '' speak of .incieiit civilization and 

The difficulty of describin'r it. or recounting its his- modern civilization: <if Asiatic civilization 

tory. is apparent and' acknowledged ; but its exist- and I'hiropeau civilization: of the E.g.vptiaii. 

ence. its worthiness to be de-cribed. ind to be re- the Assyrian, the riiinese, the ludiatl. the 

counted, is not le.s certain and manifest. y.^f^,,. f,,^. i.,.,.„vian, the Koman. an,l tln^ 

Vet. surely, ir on.sht to be possible to fix Cr< «di (d vilizat ions, as separate thin--, 

tlie meariuu- of a word so comnnm and so havmi; smdi .ycneral likeness to each, other 

important: to detertnine tlie thins; from ■i'^ "K'H li:>ve to men, but each marked by 

whirdi the qualities we attribute to civiliza- ^'"'l' individtia; characteristics as rtistir,- 

tion proceed. This I shall a.ttompt, not i;nish one man from the other. And 

only because I shall have future oceasion whether v.-e cou-ider them in their -ran i 

to use rhe word, but because of the li-ht, divisions or :ii tlicir minor divisions th.- 

tlie effort may throw on Ihe matter now in I'ne between what ce call civilizations h, 

haiMl, the nature of political economy. not the line of separation between bodies 

The vxdrd civilizatimi comes from the politic. The Ignited States and Canada, or 

I-aiin ■■civis." a citizen. Its ori,:;iiial mean- tlie I'nited States and Great Britain, are 

in- is. tlie manner or condition in whicd* sipar.ite bodies jn Utio. yet their eiviliza- 

men live to.-ether as citizens. Xow the re- tion is the same. The makiug of the Queen 

lations of the citizen to other citizens, of Great Britain Empress of India do<>s 

which are in their conception peaeeablti not substitute the EuKlish civilization for 

ano friendly. inv(dvin,i; mutual obligatious, the Indian civilization in Ben.sal. imr rlic 

mutual ri-hts and nintual .services, spring Indian civilization for the P^n.iilish civ- 

freiii the relation of eaih citizen to a iliz:iti(m in Yorkshire or Kent. Chan-e 

wlio'.e of whiidi each is an inle.ufal part. in alle-iam-e involves change in citizen- 

That whole, from memlK-rshi]) in which ship, but in itself involves no change 

jiroceeds the relationship of citizens to in the civilization. .Civilization is evideiii- 

( a(di other, is the body politic, or political ly a n la; ion which underlies tlie rela- 

c immunity, which we name the State, and Ihnis of the body politic as tlie uncon-ciou.-. 

whi<-h. sti'iick by rhe .analogy between it imdioas of the body uii Icrlie the conscious 

and the human bod.w Ilidilii's likeneil to a nioiiops. 

l.irgcr and stronger man made up by tlie New. a> Ihi' relations ,d' the citi:'Cen pro- 
inn gration of individual men, and called ce. d e<sc!itiall.>- from the relation of cadi 
Leviathan. citizen to a whole, the body politic, or I.e- 

Yet. it is not in this political relation, but vi.itlmn, of which he is a part, is it not 

a relation like it. that is suggested in .bis clear, when we consider it. that the rela- 

word ovilization— a relation deeper, wider, ti<i:is of rhe civilized m.iii proceeil from 

.•iiid closer than the relathm of the citizen hi- relations to what I have called the 

to the Slate, .-ind prior to ir. " body ( coiiomic, or greater Lcviatlian 7 It 

Tliere is a relation between what we call is this body economic, or body industrial, 

a civilization and what we call a State. wliicli grow > up in the co-operation of 

bur in this the civilization is the an- n-i ii to supply their wants and satisfy 

tece.lenr and the State th." subseiiuent. their d<'sires. th.al is the real thing consti- 

The ajipcarMice and development <if the luting what we call civilization, ami of 

b,,!y politic, the organized State, the Levi- v hich the qualitii ^ liy which we try to dis- 

athaii of Hobbes. is the mark of civiliza- tim:uisli what we mean by civilization are the 

tion alrcailv in e.Kist cue,'. .\oi in itself atlribntes. It does imieed. I think, best 



28 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



present itself to nwv iippreheiisioii in tlie 
likeness <>f m larger and sreater man. aiis- 
inu' (i\it of and from tlie co-operatiou of in- 
di\nliial m '11 to satisfy their desires, and 
ronstitntin;;. .after tlie evolution which 
finds its crown in the appearauee of man 
himself, ii ufw and seeminslx illimital)le 
tie'.d of pr<)j;re.rs. 

This liody eecnonuc. or (ireater Levi.ithan. 
alw.iys precedes and always underlies thi> 
body politic or Leviatliaii. The body politic 
or state is really .'in outgrowth of the 
body ecnnoniic. in fact one of its organs. 
the need for which and apjx'arance of 
which arises from and with its own ap- 
pearan<e and growth. And from this rela 
lion of dependence upon the bod.v economic 
the body jifdilic c;ri never become ex<>mpt. 

^^'lly. then, it m.iy lie ;.sked, is it that 
we take for the Ri eater and precedent a 
word drawn from the les.ser and subse- 
qnent, ;ind find in the word civilization, 
which expresses ; n analo.uy to the body 
politic, the Word that ser\-es ns as a n.-ime 
for the body economic? The reason of this 
is worth noting', as it flows from an im 
portaut jirinciiile in the -rf^wth of human 
knowledii'c. I'hin.Lis th.at come tirst in th • 
natur;il order are not always hrst appre- 
hended. As the human eye looks out. bnl 
not in. so the human mind as it scans the 
wiirld is aiit to observe wh.at is oi the 
superstructure ( f thinss bef<ire it observes 
what is of the fonndalinn. 

'I'he body |>olitic is more obvious to our 
eyes, and, so' to speak, nuikes nuire r.cise 
in our ears th.an the unseen ;iud silent 
Iiody economic, from which it proceeds and 
'Ui which it de|>ei'(ls. 'I'iius. in the intel- 
lecttial developmei!t cf maidvind. it and its 
relations are noticed scMUier ami receive 
p.ames earl'cr *han thi' ))ii(l\ economic. 
.VimI the words so made jiart of our mental 
fun'itnrc aft<'rwanls by their analogies 
rurinsh ns with woi'ds needed to express 
the body economic and its relations «hen 
l.-iter in ictellectual Lrowtb we conic to 
rec(]j;ni/,c it. Thus it is that while the 
thing civilizaiii 11 must in the natural order 
[ii-ecede the licdy politic or state, yet when 
ill the development of hmiiaii knowledge 
we ciniie to recogni/.e this thing we take to 
express it and its relations words alreadv 
ill use as exitressive of the body politic 
and its relations. 

I'.ut witliout ;it present pursuing further 
that riM'ord of the history of thought that 
lies ill the meaning of W(U-ds. let ns en- 



deavor to se(» whence comes the integration 
of men into a body e<'onomic and how it 

grows. 



CHAPTER V. 

Tlio Oriuin :iii)1 Geiiesi.s of (Milixa- 
tioii. 

SHOWING THE NATURE OF REASON: 
AND HOW IT IMPELS TO EX- 
CHANGE, BY WHICH CIVILIZATION 
DEVELOPS. 

Reason the Power of Tracing Casual 
Relations — Analysis and Synthesis — Like- 
ness and Unlikeness Between Man and 
Other Animals — Powers That the Appre- 
hension of Casual Relations Gives— Moral 
Connotations of Civilization — But Begins 
with and Increases Through Exchange — 
Civilization Relative and Exists in the 
Spiritual. 



Mail is an animal; but an animal plus 
something more — the divine spark differen- 
tiating him from all other animals, which 
enaliles him to become a maker, and whicli 
we call rensfin, T<i style it a divine spark 
is to use a fit fignre of speecli_ for it seems 
analogous to, if not indeed a lower form of, 
the power to wliich we must attribute the 
origin of the world; and like light and heat 
radiates and enkindles. 

The essential (luality of reason seems to 
lie ill the power of tracing the relationshiii 
of cause and effect. This power, in one of 
its aspects, that whi(di iiroceeds from effect 
to cause, thus, as it were, taking things 
.ipart, so jis to see liow they liave been put 
together. We call analysis. In another of 
its aspects, that which proceeds from cause 
to effect, thus as it were, putting things 
together, so .-is to see in what they result, 
we call synthesis. In both of these aspects 
reason. I think, involves the power of pic- 
tuiing things in the mind, and thtis making 
wiiat we nia.v call mental exiieriinents. 

Whoever will take the troul)le (and if he 
has the time, he \\ill find in it pleasure) to 
get on friendly and intimate terms with a 
dog. ,1 cat. ;i horse, or a pig. or, still better, 
since these animals, tliough they have four 
limbs like ours, lack hands, with an intelli- 
gent monkey, will find many things in 
which our "poor relations'* resemble ns, or 
perhaps rather, we resemble them. 

To sucli a man these animals will ex- 
hibit tract's at least of all human feelings 



THE ORIGIN AND GENESIS OF CIVILIZATION. 



29 



— lovo and hate, liojn' and foar, prido and 
shame, desire and remorse, vauity and curi- 
osity, generosity aud eupidity. Even some- 
tliing of our small vices and acquired tastes 
they may show. Goats that chew tobacco 
aud like their dram are known on ship- 
board, aud dogs that enjoy carriage rides 
and like to run to tires, on land. •'Bum- 
mer" aud his clieut "Lazarus" were as 
well known as any two-legged San Francis- 
can some thirty-live or forty years ago. and 
until their skins had been affectiouatel.v 
stuffed, they were "dead heads" at fi'ee 
lunches, in public conveyances and at pub- 
lic functions. I bought a monkey in Cal- 
cutta when a boy, who all the long way 
home would pillow her little head on mine 
as I slept, aud keep off my face the 
co<^kroaches that infest the old India- 
man by catching them with her hands 
and cramming them into her maw. When 
I got her home, she was so jealous of 
a little brother that I had to part with her 
to a lady who had no children. And my 
own children had in New York a little 
monkey, sent them from Paraguay, who so 
endeared herself to us all that when she 
died from over-indulgence in needle pointti 
and pin heads it seemed like losing a mem- 
ber of the family. She knew my step be- 
fore I reached the door on coming home. 
and when it opened would spring to meet 
me with chatterin;; caresses, the more pro- 
longed the longer I had been away. She 
leaped from the shoulder of jne to thai 
of another at table; nicely discriminating 
lietween those who had been good to her 
and those who had offended her. She had 
all the curiosity attributed to her sex in 
man, and a vanity most amusing. Sht- 
would strive to attract the attention of 
visitors, and evince jealousy if a child 
called off their notice. At the time for 
.scliool children to pass by, she would perch 
before a front window and cut monke.v 
shines for their amusement, chattering with 
deliglit at their laughter and applause as 
she sprang from curtain to curtain and 
showed the convenience of a tail that one 
may swing by. 

How much "human nature" there is in 
animals, whoever treats them kindly knows. 
We usually become most intimate with 
dogs. And who that has been really inti- 
mate with a generous dog has not sympa 
rliized with the childi-en's wish to have him 
decently buried and a prayer said over him? 
Or who. when he sa'\\ at last the poor 
beast's slift'enod frame, could, despite his 
accustomed philosophy which reserves a 



future life to man alone, refrain from a mo 
nient's hope that when his own time came 
lo <-ross the dark river his faithful friend 
might greet him on the other shore? And 
mu.st we say. Nay? The title by whice 
millions of men prefer to invoke the sacred 
name, it is not "the All Mighty," but "the 
Most Merciful." 

One of the most striking differences be 
tween uijin and the animals is that whicli 
distinguishes man as the unsatisfied animal. 
Yet I am not sure that this is in it.self an 
original difference: an essential difference 
of kind. I am. <ni the contrary, as I come 
closely to consider it. inclined rather to 
think it a result of the endowment of 
man with the quality of reason that animals 
laok. than in itself an original difference. 

For. on the one side, we see that men 
when i)laced in conditions that forbid the 
li()pe of improvement do become almost if 
not quite as stolidly content with no greater 
satisfactions than their fathers coukl ob- 
tain as the mere animals are. And. on the 
other side, we see that to some extent at 
least, the desires of animals increase as 
opportunities for gratifying them are af- 
forded. Give a liorse lump sugar and he 
will cunie to you again to get it, though in 
his natural state he aspires to nothing be- 
yond the herbage. The pampered lap dogs 
whose tails stick o>it from warm coats 
on the fashionable city avenues in 
Winter seem to enjoy their clothing, though 
they could never solve the mystery of 
how to get it on, let alone how to 
make it. They come to want the daintiest 
food served in china on soft carpets, while 
dogs of the street will fight for the dirtiest 
bone. I know a cat in the mountains who 
lives in the woods all the months when 
leaves are green, but when they turn and 
die seeks the farmer's hearth. The big 
white puss who lies curled in the soft chair 
beside the stove in the hall below, and who 
will swell and purr with satisfaction when 
I scratch her head and stroke her back as 
I pass down, hardly dared sneak into the 
house a few weeks ago, but now that she 
finds she is welcome is content with noth- 
ing less than the softest couch and the 
warmest fire. Aud the shaggy dog who 
likes so well to sit in a boat and watch the 
water as it plashes by. I wonder sometimes 
if he would not want a uicely cushioned 
naphtha launch if he could make out how to 
get one. Even man is content with the 
best he can get until he begins to see he 
can get better. A handsome woman I have 
met. M'ho puts on for ball or opera an 



30 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



lail's raiisdiii in gems, niul must have a 
oockade in liei- coaclnuairs hat and bicyelr 
tires on her carriage wlieels, will tell 
you that once her greatest desire was for 
a new wasli tub and a better canking stove. 

The more we come to know the animals 
the harder we find it to draw any clear 
mental line between them and us, except on 
one point, as to which we may see a clear 
and profound distinction. This, that ani- 
uials lack and that men have, is the power 
of tracing effect to cause, and from cause 
assuming cffict. Among animals this want 
is to some extent made up for by finer 
sense of perceptions and by the keener 
intuitions that we call instinct. But the 
line that thus divides us from them_ is 
nevertheless wide and deeu. Memory, 
which the animals share with man, enables 
them to some extent to do again what they 
have been first taught to do: to seek what 
rhey have found pleasant, and to avoid 
what they have found painful. They cer- 
tainly have some way of communicating 
their impressions and feelings to others of 
Their kind which constitutes a rudimentary 
language, while their sharper senses and 
keener intuitions s"rve them in some cases 
where men would be at fault. Yet the.^ 
do not, even in the simplest cases, show 
the ability to "think a thing out," and the 
wiliest and most sagacious of them may 
he snared ami lielil by ilevires the simplest 
man would with a uKinii nt's n fl ctinn "see 
liis ^\■■,\\• through."* 

Is it not in this )iowi r of "thinking things 
out." of "seeing the w.iv through." the 
power of tracing causal relations, that we 
find th'> essence of what we call reason, the 
no.- session of which Ci nstitutes the unmis- 
takalde difference not in degiee I)Ut in 
kind between man and the brutes, and en- 
ables liim, though their fellow on the plane 
of material existence, to assume mastery 
and lordship over them all? 

Heie is thr- true I'roniethean spark, the en- 
dowment to which the H( br w Scriptures re- 
fer when they stiy that Ood creat( d man in 
His oun iiiia,ge: and the nu-ans i>y which 
We, of all animals, become the only pro- 
gressive animal. Here is tln' germ of civil- 
ization. 

It is this power of relating effect to 
c-ause and emise to elfeet which renders 
1 he world intelligil)le to man: which en- 
ables him to understand the connection of 
things around him and the be.-irings of 
things above .-md beyond him: to live not 



I do not of course include the animals of 



iiiei-ely in the ]iresent. but to pry into i he 
past and to forecast the future: to distin- 
guish not only what are presented to him 
through the senses, but things of which 
the senses cannot tell; to recognize as 
through mists a power from which the 
world itself and all that therein is must 
have proceeded: to know That he himself 
shall surely die, but to believe that after 
that he shall live a.gain. 

It is this power of discovering causal re- 
lations that enables him to bring forth fire 
and call out light; to cook food; to make 
for himself coats other than the skin with 
which nature clothes him; to build better 
habitations than the trees and caves that 
nature offers; to construct tools; to forge 
weapons: to l)ury seeds that they nmy rise 
again in more abundant life: to tame and 
breed animals: to utilize in his service the 
forces of nature: to make of water a high- 
way; to sail against the wind and lift him- 
self by the force that pulls all things down: 
~\nd gradually to exchange the povertj^ and 
ignorance and darkness of the savage state 
for the wealth and knowledge and light 
that come from associated effort. 

All these advances above the animal 
plane, and all that they imply or suggest, 
spring at bottom from the power that 
malies it possibU' for a man to tie or untie 
a square knot, which animals cannot do; 
that makes it iniiiossible that he should be 
cau.gbf in a hgure 4 trap as ral>bits and 
birds are caught, or should stand helpless 
like a bull or a horse that has wound his 
tethering rope around a stake oi- a tree, 
not Iniowing in whicli way to go to loose 
it. This power is that of discerning the 
relatiini between canst' and effect. 

We measure civilization in various ways, 
for it has various aspects or sides: various 
lines along whicli the general advance im- 
plied in the word snows itself — as in knowl- 
(■dge, in power, in wealth, in justice and 
kindliness. But it is in this last aspect, I 
think, that tlie term is most commonly 
used. This we nmy see if we consider that 
the opposite of civilized is savage or bar- 
l>arous. Now savage and barbarous refer 
in comniou thoui^'ht and implication not 
so much to material as to moral condi- 
tions, and are synonynis of ferocii.v or 
cruelty or mercilessness or inhumanity. 
Thus, the aspect of civilization most 

fairy tale, nor tlie super-ordinary dogs that Herbert 
Spencer's correspoudeuts write to him about. See 
Herbert Spencer's "Justice," Appendix D, or my 
"A Perplexed Philosopher." p. 2S5. 



THE ORIGIN AND GENESIS OF CIVILIZATION. 



31 



<iuirkl.v ;ii>]>rolK'ndcil in coiniuoii thought 
is ih.-iT i)f a kfciicr sense of justice aud 
a kindlier feclin;;- lieiween man and man 
And there is reason tor iliis. NVliile an 
iniTease<l regard for tlii' riulits of others 
and an MUT(.'ased synipatliy witli olliers is 
not all tlieri' is in ciNilizalion. it is an ex- 
pression of its nniral side. Aud as the 
moral relates to the si>iritual. thi.s aspect of 
civilization is the highest, and does indeed 
furnish the truest sign of general advance. 

Vet for the line on which the general ad- 
xance priniarily proceeds, for the uiann(n' in 
wliii-h individual men are integrated into 
a body economic or greater man, we must 
\t'i>k lower. Let us try to trace the genesis 
of civilization. 

Gifted alone with the power of relating 
cause aud effect, man is among all animals 
the only producer In the true sense of the 
term. He is a producer, even in the savage 
state; aud would endeavor to produce even 
in a world where there was no other man. 
But the same quality of reason whl^jh 
makes him the producer, also, wherever ex- 
cliange becomes possible, makes him the 
exchanger. And it is along this line of ex- 
changing that the body economic is evolved 
and develops, aud that all the advances of 
civilization are primarily made. 

I'.ut while production must have begun 
with man, and the first hum.in jiair to ap- 
pear in the world, we may contidently in- 
fer, must have begun to use in the satis- 
faction of their wants a power essentiall.v 
different in kind from that used by animals, 
they could not begin to use the higher 
forms of that power until their numbers 
had increased. With this increase of num- 
bers th.e co-operation of efforts in the 
satisfaction of desires would begin. Aided 
at first by the natural affections, it would 
be carried beyond the point wliere these 
suffice to begin or to continue co-operation 
by that quality of reason which enables 
the man to see wh.it the animal cannot, 
that b.v parting with what is less desired 
in exchange for what is more desired, a 
net increase in satisfaction is obtained. 

Thus, by virtue of th(> same power of 
discerning causal relations which leads the 
primitive man to construct tools and weap- 
ons, the individual desires of men. seeking 
satisfaction tlirough exchange with their 
fellows, would operate, like the microscopic 
hooks which are said to give its felting 
quality to wool, to unite individuals in .-i 
mutual co-operation that would wi-ld them 
together as ititerdependent members of an 
organism larg<'i-. widei' and strongiT IliaM 



the individual man— the earlier and great vr 
Leviathan that I have called the body 
economic. 

Wth the beginning of exchange or trade 
anu>ng men this body economic begins to 
form, aiul in its beginning civilization be- 
gins. The animals do not develop civiliza- 
tion, liec au.-e they do not trade. The simul- 
acra of civilization which we observe 
among some of them, such as ants an,l 
I'ces, proceed from a lower plane than that 
of rea.son— from instinct. While such or- 
ganization is more perfect in its beginnings, 
for instinct needs not to learn from ex- 
perience, it lacks all power of advance. 
Reason may stumble and fall, but it in- 
volves possibilities of what seem like in- 
tinite progression. 

As trade begins in different places and 
proceeds from different centres, sending 
out the network of exchange which relates 
men to each other through their needs and 
desires, different bodies economic begin 
to form and to grow in different places, 
each with distinguishing characteristics 
which, like the characteristics of the in- 
dividual face and voice, are so fine as only 
to be appreciated relatively, and then are 
better recognized than expressed. These 
various civilizations, as they meet on their 
margins, sometimes overlap, sometimes ab- 
sorb, and sometimes overthrow one an- 
other, according to a vitality dependent 
on their mass and degree, and to the man- 
ner in which their juxtaposition takes 
place. 

We are accustomed to speak of certain 
peoples as uncivilized, and of certain other 
peoples as civilized or fully civilized, but 
in truth such use of terms is merely rela- 
tive. To find an utterly uncivilized peo- 
lile we must find a people among whom 
there is no exchange or trade. Such a 
p<'0i)le does not exist, and, so far as oui 
knowledge goes, never did. To find a fully 
civilized people we must find a peo])le 
among v. hoiii exchange or trade is abso- 
lutely free, aud has reached the fullest 
.Icxclopment to which human desires can 
c.-u-ry it. There is, as yet. unfortunately, 
no such peoitle. 

To consider the hist(n-y of civilization, 
with its slow beginnings, its long periods of 
iiuiescence, its sudden flashes forward, its 
breaks and retrogressions, would carry mi' 
further than I can here atteiniit. Scnne- 
thiug of that the reader may find in the 
last grand division of "Progress and I'ov- 
erty." liook X.. entitled. '"The Law of Hu- 
man I'l'ogress." What I wish to point our 



32 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY 



here is in what civilizatii^n essentially and 
ltiiii.;iril.v consists. 

But this is to be reuienibered : Neither 
what we sjjeak of as different civilizations 
nor yet what we call civilizatiou in the 
abstract or ;;vneral has existence in the 
material or is dire<'tly related to rivers and 
mountains, or divisions of the earth's sur- 
faioe. Its -existence is in the mental or 
spiritual. 

CHAPTER VI. 



Of KiiO'tvledK'e ami the Gi'o-»vtli «*f 
Tvii(>\vle<lK'e. 

SHOWING THAT THE GROWTH OF 
KNOWLEDGE IS BY CO-OPERATION, 
AND THAT IT INHERES IN THE SO- 
CIETY. 

Civilization Implies Greater Knowledge — 
This Gain Comes from Co-operation — 
The Incommunicable Knowing Called 
Skill — The Communicable Knowing 
Usually Called Knov/ledge — The Rela- 
tion of Systematized Knowledge to the 
Means of Storing Knowledge, to Skill 
and to the Economic Body — Illustration 
from Astronomy. 

In contrasting;- man in the civilized state 
with man in his primitive state I have 
dwelt most on the gniu in the power of 
gratifying material desires, because such 
gains are most obvious. Yet as thought 
precedes action, the essential gain which 
these indicate must be in knowledge. 
That the ocean steamship takes the place 
of the hollow log, the great modern build- 
ing of the iiide hut, shows a larger knowl- 
edge utilized in such constructions. 

To consider the nature of this gain in 
knowledge is to see that it is not due to 
improvement in the Individual power of 
Ivnowing, but to the larger and wider co- 
operation of individual powers; to the 
growth of that body of knowledge which 
is a part, or, rather, perhaps, an aspect of 
the social integration I have called the 
body economic. If we could separate the 
individuals whose knowledge, correlated 
and combined, is expressed in tlie ocean 
steamship or great \;ioderi' building, it is 
doubtful if their separate Icnowledge would 
puB uo!jan.T:jsuoo aiu uBqJ a.iora ,ioj e.iijjns 
tools of the sava?c. 

The knowledge tliat comes closest to the 
individual is what we call skill, which con- 
sists in knowing how to govern the organs 
directly responsive to the conscious will, so 



as to bring .-iboiit d'sircd rcsiills. Wlio- 
cNcr. in mature year.-;, has learned In do 
some new tiling, as for instance to ride 
a bicycle, knows how- slowly and pain- 
t'ully such knowledge is acquired. At tirst 
each leg an<l foot, each arm and hand, 
lo s;iy nothing of the muscles of the chest 
■ ind neck, seems to need separate direction, 
which the conscious mind cannot i;ive so 
nuickly and in such order as to prevent the 
learner from falling off or running into 
what he would avoid. But as the ell'ort 
is continued, tlie knowledge of how to di- 
re<'t these muscles passes from the ildiiiain 
111' ihe .'onscious to that of the sul)-coiisci(iu.> 
iniud. becoming part of whif we some- 
times call the me-mory of the muscles, and 
the needed correlation takes place with th" 
will to bring about tlie result, o- automat 
ically. For a while, even after one h.ns 
learned to hold on and keep his wheel 
UMi\ Ing. the exertion needed will l>e so 
^i-e.it Ih.-it his attention will be so absorbed 
in this, that he can look neither to riglii 
luir left, or notice what he passes. 

Knt with continued effort, the knowledge 
i-e(iuired for the proper movemtut of the 
muscles becomes so fully stored in the sub- 
conscious memory that at length the learn- 
er may ride easily, indulging in other 
trains of thought ; nd noticing persons and 
scenery. His hard-gotten knowledge has 
p.-issed into skill. 

So in learning to use a typewriter. We 
must at tirst tiud out, and with a separate 
eft'ort strike the key for each separate let- 
ter. But as this knowledge takes its place 
in the sub-conscious memory, we merely 
think the word, and without further <-on- 
scious direction, the fingers, as we need the 
litters, strike their keys. 

This is how all skill is gained. We nusy 
see it in the child, as to things which we 
ourselves have forgotten that we hail to 
learn. When a new man comes into the 
world he seems to know only how to cry. 
But by degrees, and evidently in the same 
way by which so many of us over fifty 
have learned to ride a bicycle, he learns to 
suck: to laugh; to eat; to use his eyes; to 
grasp ami hold things; to sit; to stand: to 
walk: to speak; and later, to read, to write, 
to cipher, and so on, through all the kinds 
and degrees of skill. 

Now. because skill is that iiart of knowl- 
edge which conies closest to the inili\idnal, 
becoming as it were a part of his being, it 
is the know'ledge which is longest retained, 
and is also that which cannot be commnni- 
c-ited front one to another, or so commu'ii- 



OF KNOWLEDGE AND THE GROWTH OF KNOWLEDGE. 



33 



<-at('d only iu vciy small decree. You juay 
Siixe a man general direetious as to how to 
ride a bicycle or operate a typewriter, but 
ho can get the skill necessary to do either 
only by practice. 

As to this part of knowledge at least, it is 
clear that the advances of civilization do 
not imply any gain in the power of the in- 
dividual to acquire knowledge. Not only do 
anti(iuities show that in arts then culti- 
vated the men of thousands of years ago 
were as skilful as the men of to-day, but 
we see the saiiir thing in our contact with 
people whom we deem the veriest savages, 
and the Australian black fcMow will throw 
a boomerang in a way that excites the won- 
der of the ci\illzed man. On the 'ithcr 
hand, the Euroi)can with sufficient prac- 
tice will learn to handle the l)oonier:ing 
or practise any of the other arts of the 
savage as skilfully as they, and wild tribes 
to whom the horse and firearms are first 
introduced b.v Europeans become excellent 
riilers and most expert marksmen. 

It is not in skill, but in the knowledge 
which can be communicated from one to 
another tlj.-it the civilized man shows his 
sn)icriorit.v to.tlu' savage. This part of 
knowledge, to \\-]iicli the term Icnowledge is 
usually reserved, as wlicu we speak of 
knowledge and skill, consists in a knowing 
of the relation of things to other external 
things, and may. hut iloes not alwa.ys or 
necessaril.v, involve a knowing of how lo 
modif.v those relations. This knowledge, 
since it is not concerned with the govern- 
ment of the organs directly resi)onsi\-e to 
Tile conscious will, does not come as close 
to tlie indixiibial .-is skill, tint is held 
r.-iiher as a possession of the organ of con- 
si-io\is memory tlian as ;i p.-irt <if the in- 
irnidual liimself. While thus subject to 
loss with the weakening or lapse of that 
organ, it is also thus communicable from 
one to another. 

Now. this is the knowledge which consti- 
tatcs the bod.,- of kno,vle<l-e tli.il so vastly 
increases with the progress cd' t i\iliz,al ion. 
P.eiiig held in the memor.i- il is trausfei'- 
.•ible by speech: and as the dc\-elopment o" 
NpiM'ch bads to the adijilion id' uumus for 
recording language, it becomes capable of 
more permanent stealage and of wider ami 
easier transferabilit.v— in u;onuments, mai.- 
useripts. books and so on. 

Tiijs ability to store and transnnt kno\\l- 
e<lge in other and better ways than in the 
individual memory and in individual speech, 
which c )mes with the integration of iudi- 



\idaal meu in the social body or body eco- 
iioniic, is of itself an enormous gain in the 
advance of the sum of knowledge. JUit the 
gain in other and allied directions that 
c(jn;es from the larger and closer integra- 
tion of individuals in the social man is 
greater still. (»f the systematized knowl- 
edges, that which we call astronomy was 
probably one of the earliest. Consider the 
tirsi: star-gazers, who with no instrument 
of observation but the naked eyes, and no 
means of record save the memory, saw by 
w.itching night after night related move- 
ments in the heavenly bodies. How little 
even of their own ability to gatln r and 
store I'.nowledge could tbe.v appi.v to the 
getting of sucii knowledge. For uiuM civi- 
lization liad. passed its first stages, the 
knowledge and skill required to satisfy 
tlieir own material needs must have very 
sr'riously lessened the energy that could be 
.tlil)lied to the gaining vt aii.v otlier knowl- 
edge. 

Compare with sUcli an observer ol the 
stars, the star-gazer wlio watches now in 
one of the great modern observatories. Con- 
sider the long vistas of knowledge aud 
skill, of experiment and meditation aud 
elToi't. tliat are invedved in the existence of 
the building itself, with its mechanical de- 
\ices: in the great lenses: in the poiuhi-(nis 
tube so easil.v ad.justed; in the delicate lu- 
slruments for lueasuring time and space 
and temperature; in the tables of loga- 
riilims and mechanical means for effecting 
calculations: in the lists of recorded obser- 
vations and celestial atlases that may lie 
consulted; in the means of communicating 
by telegraph and telephone with other ob- 
servers in other places, that now character- 
ize a well-appointed observatory, and in 
the means and appliances for securing the 
comfort and freedom from distraction of 
the observer himself! To consider all this 
is to begin to realize how much the co- 
operation of other men contributes to the 
work of even such a specialized individual 
as he \>iio watches the stars. 



CHAPTER VII. 



Of Seuueiice, Coiise«|neni'e ami liSi-^vs 
of \atiire. 

SHOWING THE PROPER MEANING OF 
SEQUENCE AND OF CONSEQUENCE, 
AND WHY WE SPEAK OF LAWS OF 

NATURE. 

Co-Existence and Succession — Se- 
quence and Consequence — Causes in Se- 



34 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



ries ; Names for Them — Our Direct 
Knowledge Is of Spirit — Simplest Per- 
ception of Causal Relation — Extensions 
of This — The Causal Search Unsatisfied 
Till It Reaches Spirit — And Finds or As- 
sumes Intent — Early Evidences of This — 
Why We Must Assume a Superior Spirit 
— Evidences of Intent — The Word Na- 
ture and Its Implication of Will or Spirit 
— The Word Law — The Term "Law of 

Nature." 

Whether all our knowledge of the rela- 
tious of things in the external world comes 
to us primarily by experience and through 
the gates of the senses, or whether there 
is some part of such knowledge of which 
we are intutively conscious and which be- 
longs to our human nature as its original 
endowment, are matters as to which phi- 
losophers are, and probably always will be, 
at variance. But into such discussions, 
mainly verbal as the.v are, it is needless 
for us to enter. For what concerns us here 
the distinctions made in ordinary percep- 
tions and common speech will suffice. 

In the phenomena presented to him, man 
must early notice two kinds of relation. 
Some things show themselves with other 
thing.s, and sonif things follow other 
things. These two kinds of relation we 
call relations of co-existence, and relations 
of succession or sequence. Since what con- 
tinues is not so apt to attract our atten- 
tion as what changes, it is probable that 
the first of these two relations to be 
noticed is that of succession. Light comes 
with the appearance of the numerous bodies 
of the firmament, and darkness with their 
disappearance. Night succeeds day, and 
day night; Spring the Winter, and Summer 
the Spring: the leaf, the bud; and wind and 
rain the heavy threatening cloud. The ap- 
proach to fire is followed by a pleasant 
sensation as, we get close enough to it, 
and by a most painful sensation if we get 
too close. The eating of some things is 
succeeded by satisfaction: the eating of 
other things by iiain. 

But to note the n'Iati<in of tilings in suc- 
cession iloes not content man. The esseit- 
tial quality of reason, the power of dis- 
cerning causal relations, leads him to ask 
why one thing follows another, and in the 
relation of sequence to assume or to seek 
for a relation of con-sequence. 

Let us fix in our minds the meaning of 
these two words. For even by usually care- 
ful writers one of them is sometimes used 



when the other is really meant, which 
brings about confusion of tliouglit where 
precision is needed. 

The proper meaning of secpience is that 
which follows or succeeds. The proper 
meaning of consequence is that which fol- 
lows from. To say that one thing is a se- 
(juence of another, is to say that the 
one has to the other a relation 
of succession or coming after. To say 
that one thing is a consequence of another, 
is to sa.v that the one has to the other a 
relatiim not merely of succession. Imt of 
necessary succession, the relation nnnicly nf 
effect to cause. 

Now of the sequences which we notice in 
exlernal nature, some are variable that is 
to s;iy. the.v do not always follow wh:it is 
;;iven as tlie antecedent, while some are 
invariable, that is to say, they iilways fol- 
low what is given as the antecedent. .\.s to 
these invariable sequences, which wc jiro- 
pcrly <'all consequences, we give a nami' to 
tlie causal connection between wliat wc ap- 
pichend as etTect and what we assiiiiii' as 
c;iuse l)y calling it a law of nature. What 
\\i- mean l)y tliis term is a matter too ini- 
licrtant to l)c left in the uncertainty and 
confusion with whicli it is treated in Tlie 
standard economic works. Let ns Tlierefcire 
before beginning to use tlie term, tr.v to 
discover liow it has conic into use. ili.il we 
may fully understand it. 

When, proceeding from wli.it wc appre- 
liend as effect or consequence, we beuin to 
seek cause, it in most cases happens that 
tlie first cause we find as accouiiliiig for rlie 
phenomena, we soon conic to see l^i \h- in 
itself an effect or conseqiicncc of .-in aiitc- 
ce(b-nt which to it is i-ansc. Tims .hu- 
siarch for cause liegius ;ig;iin. le.-iding ns 
from one link to another link in tlie cliain 
of causation, until we come to a cause 
wiiich we can apprehend as cajiable of set- 
ting in motion the series of which tlie par- 
ticular result is the effect or c<iiise(iucii<-e. 

In a series of causes, what wc apprehend 
as the beginning cause is sometimes c.-illed 
■lirimary cause" and sometimes "ultimate 
cause," while "final cause." which has the 
meaning of purpose or intent, lies deeper 
still. This use of seemingly opposite names 
for the same thing may at first i>iizx,Ie otli- 
ers as at first it puzzled me. Bur it is 
ex|)iained whi'U we remember tli.it wiiat is 
tirst and what last in a chain or series de- 
pends upon whi<-h end we start from. Thus. 
wiicn we proceed from cause toward effect, 
tlie lieginning causi' comes first, aiid is 



oi- si-;ori:\\i:. conskouenck akd laws of nature. 



35 



slyli'd I lie |]rini;n\- cnnsc r.iil when wi- 
si;irt fi-oiii iii'.Mi III seek (■.•iiisc, MS is nsiijiily 
111! cMsc. for \vc ciiu kiiiiw (•■•msc ,is cniisc 
"/Illy, when it lies in our own consciousness, 
tlio c-iiusc nearest tlie result eouies first, and 
we call it the " ))roxiniate cansc;" and what 
\v(^ apprt'hend as the lii'y:innni.i; cause is 
found last, and we call it the "•ultinnite"' <ir 
'■efficient cause. "" or, at least \\here iui in- 
l( indent will is ;issuuied, as the all-orij;ina- 
lor, the ••final i-ause." While those which 
lit between either end of the ch:\in :ire 
styled, sometimes secolLd.i ry. anil some- 
times interniediat<' causes. 

.\i w the only way in which wc can hope 
to disco\-cr what to us Is yet unknown is 
liy leasoiiilii; to it from w h;it lo us is 
kliowe. \\ liat wc jvuow most directly ;nid 
immediately is tlnit in us which feels .-ind 
wills; that which to distin.y'uish from our 
own oi-iians, parts or iiowers we c.-ill the 
euo. or i: that which ilist inuuishes us. oui'- 
sclves, from the external world, and which 
is included in the clement or f.ictor of the 
world that in ('haiiler 1. wo called spirit. 

M;in himsidf. in oul\\;ii-d .-iiid tautiihle 
form .-It least. Is comprehemled in Nature, 
even hi what, when we nnike tin- distinc- 
rl(M) between subjective and objective, we 
i-all external nature. His l)ody is but :i 
part of the, to us, indestructible nnitter. 
and the motion which imbues it and throusu 
which he m;iy modify external things, is 
but part of the. ti> us. indestructible energy 
which exls;<'d in nature before man was, 
and which will rem.nin. nothing less and 
notlnng more, after he is gone. As I 
brought into the world no matter or motion, 
but from the time of my tirst tangible ex- 
istence as a germ or c"ll have merely used 
the matter and motion ;ilread.v here, so I 
take noihing away when I depart. Wheth- 
er, when I am done with it, my body be 
cremated or buried or sunk- in the (h'pths 
of the sea. the niatter which gave it form 
and the energy \i-hich gave it movement do 
not cease to be. but continue to exist and to 
act ill oilier forms and other expressions. 

'I'har which really distinguishes man 
from external nature; th.it which seems to 
<-ome into the world with the (hiwning if 
life and to depart from it with (h-ath. is 
that whose identity I recognize as "me." 
through all changes of nnitter and mot'oii. 
It is this which not only receives the im- 
pressions brought to it through the senses, 
but by the use of the power we call imag- 
ination contenii)lat<'s itself, as one nniy 
look at his own face in a mirror. In this 



w.iy the ego or I of mail ma.v reason, not 
only upon rhe phenomena of the external 
world as jiresented to it through the senses, 
but also upon its own nature, its own pow- 
ers, .ind its own activities, and regard the 
wor'.il, externai and internal, as a whole, 
ii.iving for its components not merely mat- 
ter and eiierg.v but also spirit. 

Wh.atever <h)iibts any one may entertain 
or iirofess to entertain of the existence of 
wh.it we h.-ive called spirit, can. I think, 
only come from a confusion in woids. For 
I lie one tiling of which each of us must be 
most ci>rt;iln is that "I am." And it is 
through this assurance of our own existence 
tli.il we derive cert;ilnties of ail other cx- 
isleiice. 

The simplest caus:il i-el.-ition we perceive 
is that which we find in our own conscious- 
ness. 1 scralch my head. 1 slap my .eg and 
feel the etfects. I drink, and my thirst is 
ilueiKlied. Here we Inn e perhajis the 
closest connection between conseiiuence 
.ind (MUM'. The feeling of head or leg or 
^1 K'li. which here is consequence, trans- 
mitted through sense to the consciousne.-s. 
finds in the direct iierceptions of the same 
consciousness, the eause— an exertion of the- 
will (»r. reversely, the conscious exertion 
of The will t) do these things produces 
through the senses a consciousness of re- 
sult. How this eoiineetion takes place we 
c;iunot re.lKy 'ell. \\-hen we get to thaC. 
ihe scientist is as ignorant .-is the sM\Mge. 
Vet .s.Mv.Mge. (ir scientist, we mII know, be- 
cause we feel ilir rel;irioil in such e.-ises 
between eause ;iml conse((ueiice. 

rassiiig beyond the point where norli 
causi' and effect Mr<. known by conscious- 
ness, we e;irry the ceri.-iinty thus derived to 
the expl;lli:ilioii of iiheiioiueiiM .as to which 
cause Mild efreet. one or both, lie b(\voU(l 
consciousness. 1 (hnnv a stone Mt a bird 
Mild it r.Mlls. This result, the fMll of the 
I'li'd. is niMile known to iiie indirectly 
llnoimh my sense of sight, and later wiieii 
1 iiick it up. b.\- my sense of touch. The bird 
falls I.ecMiise til,, stone hit it. The 
^t'uie hit it becMuse inif in motion by the 
movement of niy liMiid mikI Mrm. Anil the 
n.oxeiiieiif of my h;iiid ;ind arm was he- 
cMiise of my -xerdon of will, known to nie 
directly by i onsciousness. 

Wh.it wc .iiijirehcnd as the beginning 
cause in .iiiy series, whether we call it 
primary c.inse or final cause, is always 
to us the catrse or sufficient reason of the 
liarlieulMr result. Ami this point in causa- 
tion ,1! whicji we rest satisfied is that 



36 TMR SCIENCE OF POLITICAL HCONOMV. 

which implies the clciuent "f spirit, the Aristollf ,niil tho logicians and iur:[- 

exertiou of will. l-'«v it is of tlir luitmo pli.vsi.-ian- who so U,u'a foliowcil him. ;is 

of luimnu reason novor t, rest c-outeiit. i>niiMTly a <-anse., and a hvghnuiv^ cans.-, 

until it c.-m come to so.netiaiiig that may •'"<' '-^iH'''! '" t'"'''' t.■l■minol,.,^^v ••the hnal 

bf coucoivod of as acting in itself, an.l ••^"■-"•" ''""i'^ tenn has now. howovc. l.e- 

not merely as a eousequence of eomethinj.' '"""' ''"'"'•'' "1 ''^^ use to tin- idea ol ,>ur- 

, pose .M- iiMi'Mt m the niiiid ol tile Sni)ienie 

else as autecedent. and thns be taken as ' . _.^_^ _^^_^| ^^^^_ -doctrine of hnal can., V 

the cause of the result or consequenc.' _^^^^ ^_^^,_^^_^^, ^^^^^ ^^^. ^.,^i,i„„ j, „„a,.,,st 1 

from which the backward sear.di began. ^^^ ^^^^..^^^ ^j^^. ,|,„., ,.;„,, „.hi<-h. .-k the last 
Thus, in o\ir instance, leaving out inter- ^^^. ^-^^^.^^ explanation of the c.\ist<Mice and 
mediate links in the chain of causation, ,,rder of the worhl. seeks to iliscover the 
and proceed in.L, at once from result to ulti piii-pose or intenl of the Crc-itor. Tin 
mate cansi', or sufficient reason, we f<ay argument from the .■issiim,iticn of \^hal ave 
correctly, that the bird fell because I hi'. ,,,,w called final causes t'cr the exisiencc of 
it— that is. because I i^xertcMl in an effective an intelligent Cri'ator. is called "the Ich'- 
way the will to hit ll. (dogica! argunx'iit." .-ind is liy those who 
But I know, by <-onsciousn<>ss. that in me have the vogue in nnidern philosophy re- 
tlie exertion of will proceds from some g.iidcd with sn-^piciou. if not with .-on- 
motive or desire. And reasoning fr.m, wha I tempt. Xcvcrthcless, the r,.-ognitiou of 

, ■ „i, ,. T „-i = i, h,. ,t;.-,-nvei- puriiosc o 1' iiitcut .-is ;i IiumI <ir lieginning 

I know to exjilain wh.-ii I wish to iU:.io\(). i i ,,.,•,, 

... , . n.,,,. . 1,,, oiniil-M ians<' IS sidl to be tound in that homely 

I explain similar actf-; in others b.\ simii.ii , . , , ^,, ,, , -• 

.' logic thai nils the conr.non spec(di ^d or- 

desires. ,lin.-i;v peoph' with ••liecauses." 

^"- 'f """ '"••■" '""'" ^""".""^' \' :'V II,.., earlv and ho. .Iron.- ,s the disposl- 

ing him with a club, or bring abcuit his ^.^^^ ^^^ ^ -^ ^^ ^^^^^_^^ ._^ ^^^^ exertion of 

de^ith more gradually by giving him a sh.w ^^..^^ |,,. ,,,,|,, ,,,, ,,.^. ,,,.^j,.,.^ ^^ ^,,„^^.„ j,, ,,„. 

pois.m. w shouhl feel that we were being ^^^.^^^^i^, ^^^. ,.,,;,, |,,,„^ ;„ ,„,|. ,,,, ,,,„, ,^,i,,. 

played with and our intelligence insulted. ^.^^^^ .^^.^_ ,^^.^^ .^1 ^.^.^^ .^^^^ ^^^ attribuie even 

it on asking the cause of death we were ^^^ ^^.^^^^ ^^.^^ afl.'rward learn arc inanimate 

told it was because a (dub struck him. or ibings (I xertioii of will an<l tlii' promi)t- 

because bre.-ith failed him. We are mil j|,j,.s ,,f d"sire such as we tiiid in our own 

satisfied until we know what will wa- cdiisi-ionsncss. .-m ! to s;\y. lud as hgurcs nf 

exerted to put into action the proximate speccdi. but as rcronnitions of cause, thit 

causes of tlie result. Xor does this ••om- tlie sun smiles and the , i..uds thivalen .and 

pletely satlsfv us. After we know the how ihe ^^iMd blows, for this ,,r ih.al purpos,. ..r 

we are apt "to ask the why-the purpos, with Ibis or that iiitcMt. 

or motive that prompted this exertion of And in the earliest -d' such recognitions 

will It is not till we^-et some answer to ^ve lind the moral elenumt. which b.d.mgs 

will. It IS nor Till w(-^Li alone to si.irii. Whit mother has not sooth<Ml 

this that we feel .-ompletely «=jt.shc d. ^^^ ^ ^^^.^^^ ^^^ .hreatening .,r pretending to 

And thus, we scmietimes make a -U. ^^^^.^^ ^^^^^ „anghtv chair or bad stone that 

shorter cut in our <-ausal explanatmii. U> ^ ^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^. ^.^^l^, ^.^,j _^_, ,^^^^. ^^^ „,„„|,,,,^ .,„„ 

dropping will itself, and speaking ot tiic |,.,^ ,„,, held t he liti Ic things in rapt silenc 

desire whicii prompts to the exertion o „ith stories of talking animals .and t hinkiuL' 

will as the cause of ,xn effect. 1 see another ^^^^^^ j.^^, ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^ ^^^^^ _. ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^.^^ 

walk or run or climb a tree. From what _^^^ ,„.wer of reason is n,)i in aiiim.ils. imr 

I know of the causes of m.v own acts. T volition in slicks ami stones. Yet still se(di- 

recognize in this an exertion of will j|^„. ,..,,,^,, i,eliind effect, ami not satisfied 

prompted by desire— the tangible nianifes ^^.^j ^^.^. ^^.^y,, f,,„,,,l cause until we li.ive 

tation of an intent; and sa.v. he walks or c.me t<p sidrii. we tind rest for a wliilc by 

runs or climbs the tree because he wants to ;,c,,ainting for effects that we <-aiiiiot trace 

fet or do or avoid something. So wheu i,, w. 11 in men or animals, on the assumption 

we see the bird flv. the tish swim, the '.mth- ,,f will in super-sensible forms, and thus 

or "opher burrow in th.' ground, we also .,atify the hmging of the reason (o discov- 

reco'-uize in their a<-ts similar intent-thc ,r cause, by p.^-pling rivers and mountains 

exertion of will prompted by desire. and lakes and seas and tre, < and s..asons 

Now. this unity or intent or desire m wi, h spirits and gcnii, and a rics and gob- 

b.i;^ about an cud. which sets an eHT lins. and angels and devils, and special 

^h'Ut cause to work, was recognized by gods. 



OF SEQUENCE. CONSEQUENCE AND LAWvS OF NATURE. 



Yil. ill .-iikI lliriiiiiili this siM.si' '<i Iniiunn 
thought STOWS ilic niipri'lK'iisioii of nil order 
niul fo-rcl;itioii in tliiiius. wliicli we can uii- 
(IcrstMiHl oi'lv by nssiiiniii;; unity of will 
:uh1 (•nni))ivli(iisi\riii>ss of iiileut— of ;in all 
cnihracinj;- svstcin or order wliich we iior- 
soiiify as Nature, and of a .ureat "I dm" 
from whose cNcrlioii of will all things vis: 
ble and invisible prcx'eed. and wliicdi is the 
first of all be^'inniiig cause. In e\ery dir''e- 
lion the effort of thi' reason 1o seek the 
cause of what it percei\-es, forces this upon 
the thouKJjtful mind. 

The bird flies because ii wanis to ll\-. In 
this will or spirit of tlie bird wt- liud an 
ultimate cause (jr suffieiiail reason to satis- 
fy us so far as sin-li action is concerned. 
liut proba.dy no man ever liveil, and cer- 
taiul.v no child, avIio. seeing' the eas.v sweep 
of birds tliroufjh the ojumi hi{;:hwa.vs of air. 
has not felt the ^vish to do likewise. Why 
does not the man also fly when he wants to 
fly? We answer, that while the bird's bod- 
ily structure permits of the j;ratification of 
a Avill to fly, the man's bodily structure 
does not. ISut what is tln^ reason of this 
difference? Her(> we come to a sphere 
where we can no lon.uer find tlie cause of 
result in the individual will. Soekinji' stih 
for will, as the onl.v tinal exi)lanation of 
cause, we are compelled to assume a hi^nh- 
ej- and more comprtdiensive will or si)ir!t. 
which has liiven to the bird on(> bodily 
structure, to tlie man another. 

Or take the man himself. The child cries 
because it wants to cr.v and lau^ihs because 
it wants to laush. P,ut that its teeth l)ej;in 
to come at tlie jirojier aire — is it b(>c:iuse it 
wants teeth? In (Jiie sense, .ves! A\'lien its 
teeth beij;in to come it begins to need te<'tli. 
or rather will shortly be;;in to need teeth. 
to lit for its stomach the more solid food it 
will then re(iuire. Rut in anotlic!'. ,iiid in 
Avhat \vo are discussing, tlie real sense, nol 
The iHM'd for teeth when l!ie.\' bcL;in to 
come is not a need of i he clnld .-is it then 
is, but a need of the <-hild .is il will in fu- 
ture be; a totaII.\- dilTcrenl bcinu' so far as 
consi ioiisness is cduci rn< d. The .vet sn<-k- 
injr child can no more v,aiil teeth, in the 
sense of desiring t<'etli, liian the .-idiill can 
want to ha.ve these teeth pulled out for the 
sake of the !,'ul!ins-. The couiiuu- of teeth is 
not pleasant. Ijut painful — seeminuiy more 
painful and ipv^ib.-ibl.v more ilan^erons than i 
tin- pullinj;- of teeth by moilern dentist ry. It 
is ch'arly by the will of the chih! th.-it we 
can e\pl;iin the ccrmiiiL;' <d' teeih. Nor yet 
<-;in we exjilain i> b.\' the will of the 
mother. She ui;iy desire that the child's 
teeth should come. Mill she cannot make 



her \\i\] effective in any laru'er de.uree 
than by rubbing- the i-liild's -uins. Xor 
can the most Ic.-irned idiysician help her 
furthi.r Ih.-in by laucin.u- them, should they 
seriously swell. To tiud a sufficient cause 
for this elf<'ct. we ;ire compelh-d to as- 
suiiii' a higher will and more comprehen- 
sive 1 uipose th.aii tliat of man: ;i will 
eons, i,, lis from the \■er.^• lirst of what will 
yet he needed, as Well :is of what alri'.ady 
is neeilcd. 

The things- that show most cle.-irly the 
.■id.iii<;il loll id' means to ends, so tliat we 
can ,i! once understand their genesis and 
di\ ine their i-:iuse. are thin.us ni.-ide b.v 
man. sm-h .-is houses. clothiu.;;-. tools, 
adotiiments. macliines: in short. \\ li.at we 
call hiim.-m productions. These, ;is evinc- 
int;- till' ad;i|)ta tion of means to ends, have 
■■ill uiimislaicable character. The comiuir 
upon a jiicce of clotliinv;' or ;i brooch or 
rini;-, or tomahawk or bow, or the embers 
and fr;iL:iiienl s of a cooked meal, would 
ha\e iM'cn as (luiek ;ind e\cn surer iiroof 
of the Jiresi'lice (it man on his SUIJposed 
desert island Ih.an weri' to Itobinsiui Cru- 
soe the fool])riiits in the sand. For of all 
the lieinj;s that our senses .i;ive tis knowl- 
edge of, m.-iii is the only one that in hiin- 
seif has the power of ad.apt iiiL;' means to 
ends by takin.n- thouj;ht. 

Vet, so soon as man looks out, he finds 
in tin' worhl itself evidences t)f the same 
power (d' adapt in.L;- means to ends that 
charactcri'/i' his own works. Hence, rec- 
o^■nizilli;■ in the sum of in'rceptible thin.u's— 
e\<hisive ef himself, or. r.ather. of his es- 
seiiti.il principle or e.uo: but inclusive, not 
nmrely of his bodily, but also of his men- 
tal fraiiK — a s.\slem or whole, composed of 
related p.arts, he personifies it in thought 
and c.-ills- it Nature. 

SI ill, while we iiersonify tliis. wliieli is 
111 (inr ap]>rehensien the ure.atest of sys- 
ti'ins, and ,i;i\ e to it in our Isn-lisli s|i,.i'eli 
the icmininc -ciMlcr, it is, I tl'.ink, as 
s.-iiloi-s ]iei-soniry a shi]!, or engine-drivers 
;l leedinotive. That is to s.ay. tlie --(-ll- 
eial peri-eption id' tin- sum of rel.-itetl jiarts 
di- system th.at wi' call Nature. <b.es not 
include the ide.a of the ori.tiina tiuL;- will, or 
lirst or lin.-il c,-uise of .all. That, we eou- 
eeive of ;is someihiu;.;- ess.'utia.lly distinct 
from Nature, thoinjli animatins- N.ature. 
and ui\e it .-imither name, studi as (Jreat 
Spirit, or Creator, or (iod. Those who 
ddnlcnd that Nature is .all, and that there 
is nolhin,^- ;ibov( or beyinid or superior to 
Nature, do so, 1 think, by confotimliuL:- two 
distincl coiiei'ptioiis. ami iisinu- the word 



THii SCIl'NCH 01' POLITICAL ICCONOMV. 



Xjitmi' ;is iiM;\iiin.i; wbftt is n^ii.-ilh' ilisiin 
iriiislicd iiy the \\(H-(1 Ooil. 

We Jill, indeed, f re(|iieiil ly use rhe wmd 
Xjitnre til iix'iid 1 lie ni'eessily of naiuiii.L;- 
tll.-lt wllicll \\e fec-l I(n Ik lllill.-linn l>le. il, 
tlie sense (it' lieiui; lieyeiid mir <-iiiilIirehen- 
t<i<Mi. .-Hid therefore lieyond our i.ower of 
<letiiiin^. '^ei 1 tliinl< lli;it not inefely the 
jilinost nnivers.-il. Init the cle.irest. ;ind. 
therefoi-e. Iiest. |iei-eeiit ions of mankind, 
really disi inunisli what we eall Nature 
from what we eall Coil, jnst -as we dis- 
tinunish the ship, or other niaehine. that 
we iiersunify, from the will whieli we 
reedu'uize as exerled in its oriuinatioii .-iiid 
lieinj;-: and that at the liottoin oiir idea is 
that of l'o|H.; 

.\11 :iir 1ml paits iif one stunciidons «li(ilc. 
Wbnsi- liedy Natuu' is. iiid Cud llic soul. 

It is from this eom-eiitioii of .Xalnre as 
v.xiiressini.' or animated li.\- the hi.uhest will, 
that we <|erive. I think, the leiiii "law ol' 
.Xatnre." 

\Ve eonie here to another ilisl aliee of the 
:i|i|ilieation to ^re.-iter tlrnus of rallies si'^- 
.1,'ested by tin' less. In oriiiinal me.iniiii:. 
Ilie word law refers to linnian will, and is 
the name uixen to a eoiniiiand or rule of 
<-oinlu<-t imjiosed by a sniierior upon an iip 
ferior. as by a so\iM-eii;n or stale iiiion 
thosp stlb.iect to it. At first the word law 
<louhtless referred only to hnnian law. I'.iit 
when later in intellectual <levelo|>nien;. 
nU-n eame to note invariable enexistenees 
and seiiuenees in tlie relations of external 
tliin^ts. tliey \ver(> <if the mental neeessity 
:ilrearty spoken of. eonipelled to assume as 
<-ause a will superior t<i hnman will, and 
adaptiiitr the word they were wont to use 
for the highest expression of hnman will, 
e.illed then laws of .X.ature. 

\\'hatever We oliserv'e as an in v.irialde re- 
l-tioii of thinizs. of wliiidi in the l.-ist anal- 
ysis we can onl.\- .itfirm tli.at, "it is always 
■so." we call ;i law of X.alnre. I'.iit llioti.L:h 
we use this phrase to express the fact of 
I'varinhlp relation, somethin.a' more tlian 
this is sutcfiested. The term itself involves 
the idea of a causative will. As .lohn 
Sfnart Mill, trained t<i analysis from in 
fancy, and from infancy exempt from tlii'- 
<iloi;i<-al Idas, sa.vs: 

The expression liuv of Xnliiic is yeiieiall.v eiii- 
]ilo\\>d by scientitie ineii vvitli ii suit of tacit lefei- 
<'iice to the oiiRiual sense of the wonl law, namely, 
1lie expression of the will of a superior — tlic su- 
tievior. ill this instance, beiuj; the Itulev of the 
iiuiveise. 

Tims, tlien. when we find in Xalnre e,er- 



l.iiii in\ari.lble seipieiiccs, whose cause of 
beiny transcends the jiower of the will 
testified to hy our own consciousness: smdi. 
for inst.-ince. as iliat s ones and apples al- 
w.iys fall toward rhe earth: that the sijuare 
of ;i hypotheiiuse ;s .alw.-iys ei|iial to the 
Slim of the si|iiares of its b.ase ;iml iieiiien 
di<-ular: tliat .uases always co;ilcs< i in cer- 
tain delinite |iroi)ortions ; tli.at one iiole i>f 
the imiynet al\\;i.\-s at tracts what ll.o other 
alw.ays rcpid-: that the e,i;,i;- (d' one lerd siib- 
.iecteil to a certain dcL;ree of waiinlh for a 
ceii.ain time biiiiLis forth a chicdi that later 
will (doihe itsidf with pliima.ne id' a cer- 
l.ain kind .and color, .and the r[Xii of .amdlier 
bird under the same conditions brini;s forth 
.1 (hick of ;i dilfei-enr kind: thai at ;i cer- 
tain sla.i;(' cd' inf.anc.v teeth ajipcir and 
Liter decay, and dro|i out: .and so on 
throlliih ihe list of ie\ariable se(|ilenci s 
that these will sn^-^^esf— We say. for it is 
really all thai we can say. that these 
seiinences are iiixari.able because they be- 
loli,:; to the order or system of Xatire: or. 
in shini. ili.it the.\' .-irc "laws of Xatnre." 

The dou .and cow sonudimes hiid< wise 
enough to be meilit.-itin.i;' on ;iii.vt liinj;. If 
they really could bollier tlndr heads with 
siKdi matters or express tludr ideas in 
sjieiM h, tlle.^■ would probabl.v say, that smdi 
sei(neiices are invariable, and then rest. 
I'.nt man is impelled by his endowment of 
reason to seek iKdiind f.act for cause, 
for thai soinethins cannot come from 
liothiii'a: that e\-ery cimseijuenee implies a 
cause, lies at liie very fonndatiou of our 
perce]dion of cinsation. To deii.v or ijinore 
thi'; W'.nhl be to (case |e rcason--wlii(di we 
can no more ce.-ise in some sort id' fashion 
to do th.aii we can cease to breathe. 

Thus, whether civilizr Ti m- nnci\ili/.ed. 
man i< coiniie leM, of mental necessity, to 
look tor cans- binc-itli llie idieiionieli.i that 
he lie-iiis really to consider, and no inalter 
wliat Miterinediate cause lie may tind. can- 
not be ciinteiit until he reaches will and 
tinds 111- assumes ii'tent. This necessity is 
iMii\-ers.aI to hiim.in nature, for it belongs 
to that quality or principle of reason which 
e-'seii t iall,\ ilistin.i-'i'.ishes man from the 
brine. The notion tli.at — 

"The heathen in his blindness, bows 
down to wood and stone." 
is of the real ignorance of iireteiided kiiowl- 
eili;e. I'.eiieatli the belief of the sava.^e in 
totems and amnlets and charms and witch- 
craft lurks the reeoKliition of sidril ; and 
the idiilosiiiihies that liave hardened into 
undesiine forms id' ridi.a;ioii coniain at hot- 



OF THE KNOWLEDGE PROPFRLY CALLED SCIENCE. 



39 



toni "hat idea of an oriniiiatiiij; will which 
the Hebrew Si'rii)ttir('> cxjucss in their 
optiiiiiu Sfuti'uoc: 

"In the hegiiiniug God created the heaven 
an<l the earth." 

Tu vucli recdunitiou of will or spirit, 
reason, as it searches from effect for 
<-anse. )nust come before It can ri st ccnitenl. 
Hoyoiiil this, reason cannot go. Why is it 
tliat some thingf* always co-exist with 
otlier tilings? and that some things always 
follow other things? The Mohammedan will 
answer: "It is the will of God." The man 
of »Hir \\'estern civilization will answer: 
"Jt is a law of nature." The phrase is 
<lifIcT .nt, but the answer one. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Of the Kno^vletltt'e I'roperly falletl 
Sciein-e. 

SHOWING THAT SCIENCE DEALS 
ONLY WITH LAWS OF NATURE, AND 
THAT IN THE CURRENT POLITICAL 
ECONOMY THIS HAS BEEN FORGOT- 
TEN. 

Proper Meaning of "Science" — It In- 
vestigates Laws of Nature, Not Laws of 
Man — Distinction Between the Two — 
Their Confusion in the Current Political 
Ecor,omy — Mason and Lalor's "Primer 
of Political Economy" Quoted— Absurd- 
ity of This Confusion — Turgot on the 
Cause of Such Confusions. 

Sc-icHce is a word much abused Just now. 
when all sorts uf ))reteuders to special 
knowledge style themselves s<-ientists and 
all s.irts of ill-veritied speculations ;ire 
called sciences: .\'et it has a well iletined. 
[iropi-r meaning whi(di m.-iy easily be kejit 
in mind. Literally, the word science means 
knowledge, and when us<'d to distinguish 
a particular kind of knowledge, should 
lia\>,' rlie me;ining of t c ktiowledge — tlia, 
is. 'if the highest and deepest knowledge. 
This is indeed the idea wlii(di attaches to 
the word. In its proper ,-iiid definite mean- 
ing, sc-icucr does not include all knowledge 
or any know Icclgc, but that knowledge by 
or in whiidi ri'sults or i)henomena are ic- 
lated to what we assumi' to be their cause 
or sufficient reason, and call a l;iw or laws 
of nature. 

As rile knowh'dge we call ^^kill is thai 
part of knowledge which comes closest to 
the individual, being retained in the sub- 



conscious memory, and hence nearly or 
completely Incommunicable; so, on the con- 
trary, science properly so called is that 
part of knowledge which comes closer to 
the higher faculty of reason, being retained 
in the conscious nienior'- and hence most 
I'asily and completely communicable 
through the power of speech in which rea- 
son tinds expression, and through the arts 
that are extensions of and subservient to 
speech, such as writinc. printing and the 
like. Something of skill even animals may 
acquire. Trained dogs, trained goats, 
trained monkeys and trained bears are 
common, and even what are called trained 
fleas are exhibited. But it is impossible 
to teach an animal science, since animals 
lack the causal faculty b- which alone 
science is apprehended. It is in youiu, 
when the joints are most flexible and the 
muscles most supple, that skill is most 
readily acquired. But it is in the years 
that l)ring the contempl.-itive mind iiiat we 
most ai>preciate and best acouire science. 
And so. while the advantages of civiliza- 
tion do not imply increased skill, they do 
imply the extension of science. 

\\ itli liuiiian laws what is properly c;illed 
science has nothing whatever to do. unless 
it be as phenomena which it subjects to i-x- 
amiiiation in the effort to disco\er in nat- 
nr.il law their cause. Thus tlu're may be 
a science of jurisprudence, or a science of 
b'gisla! ion. as there nuiy oe a science of 
gf.animai'. a science of language, or a sci- 
ence of the mental structure and its ot)er- 
.itioiis. But the ouject of siudi sciences, 
properly so called, is always to dis- 
co\-er the laws of nature in whi(di hum m 
laws, cusionis and modes of thought orig.n- 
at( — the n.ntnral laws whi<-h lie lieliiiid and 
pcrmanintly affect, not nieridy all extirnai 
m;inifest;itions of human will, but even the 
ii'lercal affe<-ti(jns of that will itself. 

Hiimaii laws are made by man. and share 
in .ill his weaknesses and frailities. They 
must lie enforced by peiialtie ; subs; <iiient 
III and conditioned ujion their \iolation. 
Such penalties are called sanctions. T'liless 
accomiianied by some penalty for its vio- 
lation, no act of legislative body or sover- 
eign prince becomes law. Lacddng sanction 
it is mer(dy an expression of wish, not a 
ilci'laiatiiiii c f will. Human laws are .-ic- 
Unowlcdged only by man: and that not by 
■,\\] men in all times and places, but onl.v 
liy some men — that is, by m<'n living in the 
time and place where the political power 
that imposes them has the ability to en- 
force their sanctions: and not c\(n by all 



40 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY 



of thcs<> liicii, lini ,L:(iicr,-iny \,y only ;, v,.,.y 
small ii;iit of thciii. Limited to tho i-iivnm- 
scribed ;ire;is wliicli w,. ,.;,ll politieal divi- 
sions. tlle.V are even tliere coiistailtly flllc- 
tnatiDir and cliaii.irinu. 

Natural laws, on tlie otlier liaiid, l)elonic 
to the natural onler (d' (liin^s; to that order 
in which and by whieh not only man him- 
self but all that is. exists. They have no 
sanetions in the sense of penalties imposed 
upon their violation and enforecd snbse- 
<liient to tlieir violation: they cannot he 
\-iolat(>d. .Man can no more resist or 
swerve a natural law than hi' can l.nild a 
world. They arc ackno\vli.<l-cd m.f (,nly 
b.v all men in all limes .-ind places. Imt alsd 
by all anim.-ils and all inanimate thinf,'s, 
and their sway extends not mendy over 
and thron;^hont the whole earth of which 
we are constantl.v chanKing tenants, but 
over .md through the whole system of, 
which it is a pari. ;ind so far as cither ob-' 
servation or reason can ;;ive ns linht. over 
and through the whoh' uni\<'rse. \isible 
or invisible. So f.-ir as we ran see, cither 
by observation or by reason, they know not 
change or the shadow nt turning, but arc 
the same, yesterday. t<i-day. to-nn.rrow: 
for they are expressions, not of the mu- 
table will of man. l)ut of the immntablc 
will of (Jod. 

I dwell .again on llic distinction Iictwecn 
laws of nature ;ind laws id' m;iu. biM-.iusc it 
is of the tirst necessity in beginning tin- 
stud.v of political economy that we should 
grasp it firmly and keep it dcirly in nnnd. 
This necessity is the greater, since we shall 
find that in the accredited economic 
treatises laws of nature ;ind laws of man 
are confused togethei' in what they call 
laws of j)olitical econoni.\-. 

It is mit woi-th while to m.-ikc many ipio- 
tations to show a confusion which one ni.ay 
see liy taking u)) the economic work .ap- 
proved by college or uni\-ersjty fh.-it tirst 
comes to his hand: )ijl that wh.-it p.isses 
in these institutions tor tiic sc.'ence of 
liolitical economy nia.\- speak for itself. T 
shall nnike one iiuot.-itioii 

I take for that ])Ui)rose tlie best liook I 
can fin 1 that ])iits into compact form the 
teachings of the scliolastic economists — one 
that is. I think, suiierior in this to Mrs. 
Midicent (;arrett I'\-iwcett's "I'DMtical 
Kconomy for Heginners," which at the time 
T wrote •'Progress and I'overt.v" seemed to 
me the best short statement of .accepted 
c( rmomic leachings I then knew of. It is 
"The I'rimer of roliticil Kconomy. in Six- 
teen ]»etiuitious and l-'orty rropositioiis." 



by .\lfred 1!. Mason .and .John .1. L.ilor, 
M'hicago. A. C. .\IcC:urg \- Co.i* 

.Messrs. '.Mason and Lalor. who have .since 
pioved themselves to be men of ability. 
were in 1,S7.">. when they wrote the primer. 
fresh from .-i university course of political 
economy and a subsequent study of the ap- 
proved authorities, and their [irimer has 
been widely iniloi'si <1 and largely used in 
iiistit ulions of learning. This is the iirsf 
of their sixteen dctliiil ions, an! their ex- 
planation of it: 

l>KKI.\rri()X I.-I'olitical JOconomy i> the 
Sidei'i-e whiidi teaches the haws that reg- 
ulate the I'roduction. Distribution ami 
lOxchange nf Wealth. 

K\-crytliing in this world is goveriieii by 
law. Hum.-in l,i >> s are those made by maii. 
.\;; otliers .are natural laws. A law [/ro- 
Niiling for the education of children in 
schools is a human law. The law that chil- 
dren sh.all kee]) growing, if they live. ui\- 
til they are men and women. ' and sh.ali 
then slowly decay and at last die. is a 
natural l;iw. An api)le falls from .-i tree 
ami the e.arth moves aroun I the sun in 
olpcilience to natr.ral laws. The laws vvhiidi 
regulate the pro luctioii. distril)ution .ami 
exchange of wealth are of Itoth kinds. The 
nic;e impoi'tani oiics, however, arc n.ittir.il. 

In this Messi-s. Mason and L.aloraptiy il- 
lustrate I lie essential differetu-e between 
ii.ilnral l.iw ;iinl human law. I'ut th" way 
in wiiic], the two are mixed togidler as 

cciii ic laws suggests the examination 

p.ipcr of ;i rhii.-idelphia boy nnire inter- 
ested in hooking cattish .and stoiuug frogs 
;!;an in I.indiey Muria.v. To rlic qu.estion. 
"Xanic .ind ile.-crilic nounsV" the ;n;<wei- 
was : 

■'.Xouns arc three in number and sume- 
limes more. There are proper nomis. com- 
mon nouns, blood.v nouns*, and other 
nouns. I'roper imuns are the iiroperest, 
nouns, but coiinnon nouns are the common- 
est. I'.loody nouns .are the big ones. Oth.er 
nouns .ai'c no good." 

\ et riiliiMiious as is this comdusioii of hu- 
man law ami mitural law. and absurd as is 
a detinitioli that lea\'es one to gTU'ss W'hi(dl 
is meant by "Laws." tliis little ]oimei' cor- 
icctl.\' gi\es wliat is to be found in the pre- 
teiitions treatises it endeavor-s to condense 
— ami that e\-en in the most systemati'- and 
carefid of them, .as 1 shall here:!fter have 
occasioi! to show. 

It is only with the implication thar liy 
law is meant natural law. that \y:> cui sav. 



•In writing this book I have viuiily tried lu tiud 
some such coiulensatioii that would do for the "new 
school" scholastic economy what Mr. Fawcett and 
Messrs. Mason and Lawlor have done for ih- old. 
iuid can onl.v conchide that their teachinss a'e too 
vague to permit of sncli condensation. 

*\ name given b.v boys in Phil:idelphi;i 
tnillfrogs. 



C'-rge 



I'HH r.coNOMV called political ecoxomv. 



41 



■•I'hcryhiii-- in I his wdvlil is nnvcnied l>.v 
l.-iw." Td s:iy. :is the littli' siinui'.iiry nf 
111.' sclxilnslir iii.li'icnl (.(■(imiiiiy t'nnn wliidi 
I '•.-ivc (ini)ttMl snvs, tliat |MiIitic:il (M-oiKiiny 
is rill' sfiflicc \vliich Iraclics tlic l;i\vs. siiiiic 
iif llii'iu li;itm-;ll l;l\vs ,IimI Sdiiii' 'l' tlK'lll 
luiiunu hnvs. wliicii rc^nl.-ilr tlie iircdurtioii. 
ilisi riiiiitioii .-iimI cxcliaiiLic of \\r;iltli. is lil<i' 
SMvili^i tli:U ;isn-iiip.iiiy is llic sricm ( \\iiii-li 
IciclU's till' laws, soiiu' ijI' tlicin ';i\as of 
iiintjer ;inil iiidtinii .-iinl sdmc of tln'iii Hulls 
of I'o^les anil Ai-< < of raiiiaini'iii . wiiirli 
rcunlate llm nio\ i inciils of stars anil 
i-onicts. 

'I'lic ahsnnlity of tins is nol so .-U-ikiimly 
obvious in till' iionilfiiiiis treatises from 
wiiii-h it is ilcrivi'il in this little primer, be- 
carse tlie attention of the reaileris in them 
i-onfuseil liy tile ntter \-,ant of lie^ieal ar- 
ra n;L;rliU'nt. anil ilistracteii liv the siliivellili.n 
in on him. .as it were, of Ltreat masses of 
irrelev.ant matter, which makes ii a most 
(lifl'ieiilt. ami with the m.aiority of readers 
an utterly lioiieless task. 10 iliu' iMit what 
is really meant— a ta.sk usually abaiiiloned 
by the ordinary reader with a secret feel- 
ini;- of shame at liis own tncaiia'-ity to fol- 
low siirh dei'i) and learned men. who seem 
to lijiiiMy re\'el in what he cannot miiler- 
st.-ind. The expositions of Miiat ii.isses for 
scieiK-e of political economy in otir schools 
di) indeed for the most part contain some 
tlumrs that really belong to science. But 
in far larger part what properly belongs to 
science is. in the literature of political 
economy that has grown iiji since his time, 
confused and merlaid ^\•ilh what Turgot. 
over a hnmlred years .-igo, sjioke of as .-in 
art— the art. namely, "of those who set 
themselves to darken things that ;ire clear 
to the open mind." 

What this truly great I''ri'mluiiaii of tlie 
eighteenth century said is worth (luoting. 
for it finds altumlant anil constant illustra- 
tion ill the writings of tne professors of 
li(diiic,-il economy of the nineteenth cen- 
tury, :ind especially in the latest of them: 

"This art consists in never beginning at 
(he beginning, but in rushing into (lie sub- 
,i(>it in all its complications, or with some 
fact that is only an exceinion. or some cir 
ctimstance. isolated, f.ir-fetched or merely 
collateral, wliich does not belong to the es- 
M'Pce of the 'luestion and goes for nothing 
ii; its solution. * * * Like a geometer who 
treaiing of triangles shou'.d begin witl; 
white triangles as most simple, in order to 
treat afterward of blue ti'.,iligles. then 01' 
red tri.-ingh's. and so on." 

If iioiitic-il economy is :i science — and if 
not it is hardly worth the while of earnest 
iiicn lo bother themselves with it— it must 



follow I he rules of science, .-11111 seek in 
nainral law the causes of the phi-nonieiia 
w iiich it imestigates. V\'ith human law. 
iMi'Pt :is funiishing ilhistrations and sup 
plying sub,iects for its investigation, it lias, 
as I have jilready said, nothing whafexer to 
<lo. It is concerm d with the jie. i.oaneiit. 
nol with the tr.-insient ; with the laws of 
iiainre, not with the laws of man. 



Kook I. 



CHAPTER IX. 



'I'lsf HltMtiioiiiy Called I'oli t icsil Kfoii- 
«»!iiy. 

SHOWING THE MEANING, UNITS AND 
SCOPE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 

The Word "Econoiny" — The Word "Po- 
litical" — Origin of the Term "Political 
Economy" and Its Confusions — It Is Not 
Concerned with the Body Politic, but 
with the Body Economic — Its Units, and 
the System cr Arrangement of Which It 
Treats — Its Scope. 

The word economy, drawn from two 
(Ireek words, liouse and law, which to- 
gether signif.y the mamigtment or arrange- 
ment of the material part of household or 
domestic .affairs, means in its most com- 
mon sense the jivoidance of waste. We 
economize mone.v or time or strength or 
material when we so arrange as to accom- 
jilish a result with the smallest expendi- 
ture. In a Willi 1 sense its uieaiiing is that 
of ,1 s,\s!cni or arrangeminr oj- ada]italioii 
of means to eiiilsBor of parts to a whole. 
Thus, we speak of the economy of the 
hcavi'i's; of the economy of the sol,-ir s.vs- 
lem; the economy of the vegetable or aui 
niiil kingdoms: the (conomy of the human 
body: or, in short, of the economy of an.v- 
thing which involves or suggests the .adap- 
tation of means to ends, tlii' co-ordination 
of parts in a whole. 

As there is an econom,v of imli\iilual af- 
fairs, .-m I couoniy 1 f the h lUSi hold, .-in ecoii- 
oni.x' of the farm or worksho]) or railwa.v. 
cich concerned with the adapt.itiou in these 
sphert/S of means to elids, by which waste 
■s avoided and the largest results obtained 
with the least expenditure, so there is an 
economy of communities, of the societies in 
wliiidi civilized men live— an economy which 
has speci.il relation to the adaptation or 
systi m liy which materi.-il w;ints are satis- 
licil. or fo the production and distrilnitimi 
of w-ealth. 

The word iiolitical means, relating to the 



42 



THE vSCIENCB OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



body of citizfiis or State, the body politic; 
to tilings coniiug within tlie scope and ac- 
tion of tlie conuiionwcaltli or sovfi-iniiciii : 
to public policy. 

Political economy, therefore, is a [larticu- 
lar kind of economy. In tne literal mean- 
ing of the words it is that liind of economy 
\rliicli lias relation to the community or 
state: to the social whole ratlicr than (o 
individuals. 

But the convenience wliich impels us to 
abbreviate a long term has led to tlie fre- 
qu(>nt use of "'economic" when "politico- 
economic"' is nieaiit. so that we may by 
usage speak of the literatuic or princi)Ies 
or terms of iiolitical economy as "economic 
literature" or "economic princjiles" or 
"economic terms." Some recent writers 
indeed seem to liavp substituted the term 
"economics" for political economy itself. 
Rut this is a matter as to which the reader 
should be on his guard, for it has been used 
to make what is not really political econ- 
omy pass for political e<-iinomy, as I shall 
hereafter show. 

Adam Smith, who .it the •lose of tlie 
l;ist century gave so iiowerful an impulse 
to the study of wli;it has since lieen called 
political ecoi'oniy that he is. not without 
justice, spoken of as its father, entitled 
his great book, "An Inquiry Into the 
Nature ami Causes of the Wi-alth of Xa 
tions," and what we call political economv 
the (iermans call nation il economy. 

No term is of imiiortance if we rightly 
understand what it mcirtis. Itiit, both in 
the term "political economy," and in that 
of ■■national economy." as well as in tlie 
phrase ■'wealth of nations." lurk sugges- 
rinns wliicli may and in fact often do in- 
lei-efere with a clear .-i/iprehensioi, of tlu- 
gi'cnind they iiroperly cover. 

The use of the term political economy 
began at a time when rhe distinction l»e- 
Tweei) iiatur.-il law .-ukI Imman law w;is not 
cle;irly made, when what I hax'e c;illed th ■ 
body economic was 1,-irgely confounded 
with what is properly the body politic, ano 
w hen it \vas tlie CDinnion < pinion in Knrope. 
even of thoughtful men, that the produc- 
tion .111(1 dstiiliurioii of wea:th were to In- 
regulated by th<' legislaiive action of the 
sovereign or state. 

The tirst one to use the term is said to 

have been Antoine de Montchretieu in his 

Treatise on I'olitical Economy (Traite de 

IVconomie politique), published in Kouen, 

France, Kil.'i. But if not invented bv them. 



it w.is given currency, some 1.".0 or 14t> 
ye.iis after, b.v those Freneli e.xponeiiis 
of n.itnrai right, or the natural order, who 
ma.v to-day be best described as the first 
single tax men. They used the term polit - 
cal ecouoni.v to distinguisli from politics the 
branch of knowledge with whicli they were 
concerned, and from this called tliemselves 
I'^conomists. The term is used b.v Adam 
Smith only in sjieaking of "this sect,'' con.- 
posed of "a tew men of great learn'ng ana 
ingenuity in France." But although these 
iOconomists were overwlielnieil and ha\e 
been almost forgotten, yet of their "iiolile 
and generous system" this term remained, 
and since the time of Adam Sniitli it has 
come into general use as expressive of — 
to accept the most common and I tliinii 
sntfi<-ient detinition — tliat branch of know! 
edge that treats of the nature of wealth, 
and the laws of its i)roducti<in and dis- 
tribution. 

I'.nt the confusion with jiidltics. which 
the Frenchmen of whom Ad.im Smitli 
speaks endeavored to clear away Ity iheir 
adojitifm of the term, iiolitical economy, 
still continues, and is in fact suggested by 
the term itself, which sei lus at first ai)t to 
<-on\e.\' the impression of a iiarticular kind 
of p(ditics ratlier tlian of a particular kind 
of ei-oiiomy. Tlie word "political" has a 
meaning which relatts it to civil govern- 
ment, to the exercise of hr^uiaii sovereignt> 
by enactment or administratir.n, without 
i( ft retice to those invariable seiiueiu »s 
w hicli we call natural laws. An area (iiffer- 
entiated from other areas with reference 
to this power of making nuiiiici'>iil enact- 
ments and compelling obedience to them. 
we style a political division: am] the larger 
political divisions. In which the highest 
soxcreigiity is acknowledged, we call na- 
tions. It is tlierefore important to 
keep in mind tlnit the laws with which 
politii'al ecomimy primaril.v deals are 
not human eiiactniei'ts or ninniciiial laws, 
by natural laws; and that they have no more 
reference to political divisions than have tin- 
laws of mechanics, tlie laws of optics or the 
laws of gravitation. 

It is not with the body politic, but with 
tliat body socia: or body industrial that I 
lia\e called the body economic, that politi- 
cal economy is directly concerned; not with 
the commonwealth of which a man becomes 
a member b.v the attribution or acceptance 
of allegiance to prince, potentate or repub- 
Tk-; bur with the commonwealth of which 



Till', HCONijMV CALLED POIJI'ICAL HCoNOMV. 



43 



hf iircoiiu's ;i inciiiliiT liy the fact that lit- 
lives ill a >;tate of soi-iciy in which each 
iluef not attenip; to satisfy ai: of his own 
iiiateri il wants by bis o\\ n dirct't t'ffoits, Ijiit 
obtains tlii' saiisfaction of sonic of tlu-ni at 
least tbroni;li tbc fo-ojicration of otbeis. 
Tbc fact of iiartifiiiation in tliis t-o-oi)era- 
tion flot's not nialvc him a citizen of any 
parlicnlar M;itc. Ii niaUcs him a civiliz d 
mall, a men Ixt of the cixilizcd world— a 
unit in tbai liody economic to wliicli onr 
political distinctions of states and nations 
have no more relation than distinctions of 
col<n- ha\'e to dis;inclions of form. 

'J'hc unit of human life is tbe individual. 
l'']-(iiii onr first consciousness, or at least 
from iinr tirst nieniory, our deein-st feelinii 
is tliar \\ b'lt we reeoj;iiize as "I" is some- 
thing clistinct from all other things, and 
tbe actual meriicnienl of its individuality 
in other individualities, however near and 
<lear. is sometbinji we caiiuot conceive of. 
15nt the lowest unit of wliicli political 
«'cononn- treats often includes tbe family 
with the iiidi\idnal. l"or tliougb isolated 
indi;"iilnals may exist for a wbile, it is 
only under nnnatural <-onditioiis. Human 
life, as We know it. l)e.nins witb tbe coii- 
.juncture of individuals, and <'ven for some 
time .after birth can continue to exist only 
under conditions wliicli make tbe new in- 
dividual dependent on and subject to pre- 
eedins individuality: while it requires for 
its fullest de^■elopnlent and hiiihest satisfac- 
tions the nniou of indixldnals in one 
ei-oneniic unit. 

While, then, in treatiiij.' of the subject 
matter of political <'coiioniy. ii will lie con- 
venient t<i sjieak of the units we sliai: b;ive 
o<'casioii to refer to as individuals, it should 
be nndei'stood that this Icrni docs iioi jiec- 
ess.nil.v iiieaii se]iar.-i1e persons, but in- 
<-lnil. s. as one. those so bouiiii touethcj- by 
tbe needs ,if f;iniily life ;is to liaNC as onr 
plir.-isc i-<. ■'iiile purse." 

.\ii I'ciiiioiny of the ecoiioniic unit would 
net hi' a politiciil ecoinniiy. and the l.iws of 
which it would treat would not \tc those 
\\i\]\ which political economy is concerned. 
Tliey would be the laws of iiersonal i>v 
famil.v ciiiidiict. An e<-ononiy of the indi- 
vidual or family could treat the production 
of wealth no further than r(dated to the 
production of such a unit. And tbouj^b it 
niigbt take cognizance of the physical laws 
involved in its agriculture and mechanics, 
of tbe distribution of wealth in the econo- 
mic '^cuse it could not treat' at all, since 



any apport iolinii'iil among the menibeis of 
such a famj|.\- of wealth obtained by il 
would be govi rued by the laws of indixidnal 
or family life and not by .any law of tbe (lis 
tribntion of the lesults of s'xially conjoined 

effort. 

r>u! when in the natur.al course of huinaii 
growl h ,nid ile\c!opmciu economic units 
e into such relaMons that tlie satisfac- 
tion of material desires is sought b.v. con- 
joini'd elTort, the laws which political econ- 
omy seeks to discox'er begin to appear. 

The system or arra igement li.v which ma- 
terial satisfactions are in stub conditions 
Sought and obtained may be roughly lik- 
ened to a machine fed b.v combined effort, 
and producing joint results, whicb are final- 
ly divided or distributed in individual 
satisfactions—a macbi.ie resembling an old- 
time grist mill to which individuals brought 
sejiarate parcels of grain, receiving there- 
from in meal, not tbe identical grain each 
had put in. nor yet its exact equivalent, but 
an eipii\alent less a charge for milling. 

(ir to make a closer illustration: Tlie 
system or arrangement which it is the 
proper iniriiose <if political econom.v to <lis- 
cover, may be likened to that sy,stein or 
arrangement by wbicb the physical body 
is nourished. The lowest unit of animal 
life, as far as we can see. is the single 
cell, which sucks in and assimilates its 
own food, thus directly satisf.viiig what we 
ma.v st.vle its own desires. Hut in those 
highest forms of .animal life of wbicb man 
is .-I type, myriads of cells have become 
conjoined In related iiarts and organs, ex- 
ercising ililTca-eiu and complex functions, 
whiil. result ill the prociirenieiit, digestion 
ai'd assimilation of the food that nour 
isliing c.-ich sep.ir.ile cell maintains the 
entire orgaiusni. r.r.-iin and stonuudi. hands 
.iiiil feel, eyes .-iiid ears, teeth and hair. 
Iioiies, iier\cs, arteries and veins, still less 
the cell'; of which all these itarts are com- 
liii^cil, do not feed themselves. Under the 
goxerenieiit of the br.aiii. what the hands. 
Mideil b.\ the legs, assisted by the organs 
of sense, procure, is I'arried to the mouth, 
macer.iled by the teeth, taken by the 
throal to the alembic of the stomach, when 
.lidcd by the intestines it is digested, and 
jiassing into a fluid containing all nutritive 
subst-anccs. is oxygenized by the lungs: and 
inip<dled l.y the pumping of tbe heart, 
makes a complete circuit of the body 
tlirongb a system of arteries and vein's, in 
the course of which every part and every 
cell takes the nutriment it requires. 

Xow. wliat the blood is to the physical 



44 



THE SCIHNCE OF POLITICAL KCOXOMY 



body, wc-iltli. as wc shall hereafter set> 
more fully, is Ici the body eeenomic. And 
as We sboul'i find, were wo to Tinde'/take 
it, that a (U'scriiition of the manner in 
which bhiod is prodncetl and distribute<l in 
the jihysical l)ody wonld involve almost, if 
not qnite, a description of the entire jiliysi- 
c;il man \^•ith all bis llo\^■ers and functions 
and tbe laws which govern their ii|)(n-a- 
tions; so we sliall find tliat wliat is in- 
cluded* or involxed in political ccduoniy. 
tlie science which tri'ats nf tbe iiroducrion 
and distribution of wealili. is alnoist. if 
not quite, llie whole b<H|\- scii-i.-il. with all 
its parts, imwei's and functions, and the 
laws under which I hey o])erate. 

The scope of political economy wejlld be 
roi'shly exijiaiiiiMl wei-e we In style it tbe 
scienc*' which te.-iehes how civilized men 
get a liviiiL;-. Why ibis idea is sufficiently 
expressed as the prodncton .-ind distribu- 
tion of we,\ltli will he more fully seen 
hereafter: but tbere is a distinction as to 
what is called Kottins a livinR- that it may 
be worth while here to note. 

We have but to look at existinji- f.icis to 
see that there are two ways in which 
men (i. e., some men) may obtain s.-iiisfac- 
tion of their material (b'sires for things not 
freely supplied to them by nature. 

The first of these wa.\s is, l)y workinji, 
or rendering service. 

The sec<ind is, by stealing, or extorting 
service. 

P.ut there is only one way in whir-h man 
(i. e.. men in general or all meni can sat- 
isfy their matci-ial desires- that is by work- 
ing, or rendering scrxice. 

Fill- it is manifestly imiiossible that men in 
general or all men, or Indeed .-my but a 
small minority of men. can satisfy iheir 
material desires by stealing, since in the 
nature of things working oi' ihe i-endcring 
of service is tlie ludy w.-iy in which the ma- 
terial satisfactions of desire c,-in lie primar- 
ily cl)tain(>d or prodm-ed. 

Stealing jiroilnces nothin--: ii only alters 

the distribiiti d' whal has .-ilrcady been 

produced. 

Therefore, however if bi- ihal stealing is 
to be considered by an indi\idiial economy 
or by an ei-onomy of ;i jiolilical division, 
and with whatever propriety .1 sm-cessful 
thief who has endowed churches and col- 
leges and libraries :ind soup-houses uiay in 
such an economy lie treatc<l .-is a pnbli<' 
lieuef.actor and spoken of as .knton.x- s|ioke 
of Caesar— 
■•fie hath bronght in;iu\' captives lionie to 

Home. 
Whose r;iii>oms <lid tlie geuer.nl coffers till." 



— ;i true science of political economy takes 
no cognizance of stealing, except iu so far 
as tile various forms of it ni.iy jiervcrt the 
natur.-il distribution, and thus check the 
natural production of wealth. 

Yet. at the same time, political economy 
does not concern itself with the character 
of the desires for which satisfa<'tion is 
sought. It has nothing to do. <'ither with 
the originating motive that i>riniipls to 
action in the satisf;iction of m.-iteriai de- 
sires, mu- yet \\ifh tlie linal s.atisf.action 
which is the end ;ind •■lini of tli.at action. 
II is, so to sjieak, like the science of n.-iviua- 
liiui. which is i-oncerned with the means 
whereby a ship ni.ay be carried friun point 
to ]ioiiit on the iK'c.-iu. but asks not Wiethe]- 
ih.at shii) be .-i pir.-i tc or ,a missioiuiry bariute. 
\\li;il are the expecti-^ tions which may in- 
du<-e its passengers to go from one idace 
to .inothei-, or whether or no these exjiecta- 
lioiis will be gratitied cm their aiii\al. 
I'olitic.-il economy is imr moral or ethical 
science. nor yet is it Jiolilic-il science. 
It is the science of the ma iiiti'ii;tnce and 
nutriment of the body |iolitic. 

.Mtbon^h it will be found inciilent ally to 
throw ;i most powerful light u]iiiu, •■lud ti> 

gi\e ;l most liowerful support to. the |c;li-b- 

iugs of moral or ethical science, its pr.irier 
business is neither to explain the ditVerence 
between right ;ind wrcmg iior to ]iersui!de 
to ntii' in pnd'erence to the other. .Vnd 
while it is in tbe s;ime w;iy wh.-it may bi- 
ti'i-nied the lire;td and butter side of poli- 
tics, it is directly concerned only with the 
tialur.-il laws wlii(di govern thi' iirodnction 

and disiributi f wealth in tlie sociirl 

organism, ;iud not witli the cnactmeins of 
Ihe body politic or st.ate. 

CHAPTER X. 
riie lOlt'iiitMits of Politioiil Keoiioiu*. 

SHOWING HOW POLITICAL ECON- 
OViY SHOULD PROCEED AND WHAT 
RELATIONS IT SEEKS TO DISCOVER. 

How to Understand a Complex System 
— It Is the Purpose of Such a System 
That Political Economy Seeks to D;sco> er 
— These Laws. Natural Laws of Human 
Nature- — The Two Elements Recognized 
by Political Economy — These Distin- 
guished Only by Reason — Human Will 
Affects the Material World Only Through 
Laws of Nature — It Is the Active Facior 
in All with Which Political Economy 
Deals. 



THE ELEMENTvS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



45 



I'll undcrst.-iiiil ;i comiilrx iiincliinc lliv Ix'sl 
Wiiy is tii-st Id see what is the beKiiiiiiu.n- 
and what the end of its movements. leaviiiLj 
details until we have mastered its j^eneral 
idea and eiimpreheiided its purpose. In 
this ^\ a.v we most easil.v see the relation 
of p.-ins to each other ami to the ob.ieet of 
the whole, and readil.v come to understand 
to the minufesi movements and applianees 
vvh.-U without tile el'W of intention mi^ht 
h:ive hopelessl.\- perplexed us. 

When the safet.v liicycle was yet a euii- 
osity even in the towns of Knjiland and the 
mited States, an American missionary in 
a far-off station received from an old 
fi'iend, nnaccompanied by the letter in- 
tended to iro with it. a present of one of 
these m.-ichiiies. which for economy in 
iranspi>rlation had not been set up, but was 
forwarded in its unassemlile(l parts. How 
ihese parts were to be imt tosether was a 
jierplexing- problem, for neither the mis- 
si<inary himself nor any mie he could con- 
si'lt could at first imagine what the thing 
was intended to do. and their .guesses were 
of almost everything but the truth, until 
at length the saddle suggested a theory, 
wliich was so suecessliilly followed that by 
the time, months afterward, another ship 
brought the missing letter, the missionary 
was riding over the hard sand of the beach 
on his wheid. 

In the sann^ way an i.itelligi'nt savage 
Iilaced in a great industrial hive of our 
civilization before some enormous factory 
throbbing and whirring with the seemingly 
independent motion of pis'ons aiid wheels 
and belts and looms, might, with no guide 
but his own observation and reason, soon 
come to see the what, the how and the 
why of the whole as a connected device for 
using the power obtained by the transfor- 
mation of coal into heat in the cdiangiug of 
such things as wool, silk or cotton into 
blankets or iiiece .goods, stockings or rib- 
bons. 

Xow the reason which enables us to un.- 
lierstand the works of man as soon as we 
discover the reason that has brought them 
into existence, also enables us to interpret 
r.nture by assuming a like reason in na- 
ture. The child's question, "What is it 
for?"— what is its purpose or intent'/— is 
the master key that enables us to turn the 
locks that hide nature's mysteries. It is 
in this way that all discoveries mi the field 
of the natural sciences have been made. 
and this will 1 ur best way in the inves- 
tigation we are now entering upon. The 
• •'implex phenomena of the production and 



distribution of wealth in the i'laborat<' 
oi-ganization of modern civilization will only 
puzzle us, as the many confused and con- 
fusing books written to explain it show, if 
we begin, as it were, from the middle. But 
if we seek tirst principles, and trace out 
main li)U's. so as to,, comprehend the skele- 
ton of their relation, they will readily 
become intelligible. 

The immense aggregate' of movements by 
wliich. in cixilization, wealth is produced 
.inci tlislribnttMl, vieweil collectively as the 
snb,iect iK politi( al ecenomy. constitute a 
system oi arr.iugement much greater than, 
yet analogous to, the system or arrange- 
iiient of a great factory. In the attempt 
to understand the laws of nature, which 
they illustrate and obey, let us avoid the 
confusion that inevitably attends beginning 
from the middle by proceeding in the way 
suggested in our illustration— the only scien- 
tific wa.v. 

These movennmts. so various in their 
modes, and so complex in their relations, 
with which political economy is concerned, 
evidently originate in the exertion of hu- 
man will, prompted by desire; their means 
are the miterljil and forces that nature 
olTers to man and the natural laws which 
these oliey: their end and aim the satisfac- 
tion of man's material desires. If we try 
to call to mind as many as we can of the 
different movements that are included In 
the production and distribution of wealth in 
nmdera civilization- the catching and gath- 
ering, the sejjaratiug and combining, the 
digging and i)lanting, the baking and brew- 
ing, the weaving and dyeing, the 
sewing and washing, the sawing and 
planing, the melting and forging, the 
moving and transporting, the buying and 
selling— we shall see that what they all aim 
to accomiilish is some sort of change in the 
pl.-ice. f.irr.i or relation of the materials or 
fon-es suiiiili:'i| liv nat ire so as better to 
satisfy hnnian desire. 

Thus the iHovemiMits willi which poetical 
economy is conce ■ned are human actions, 
having for llieir :iim Ihe attainment of 
material sa r isfactiou. And the laws that 
it is its provinc(> to dis'.>\er are not the 
laws iiianiresleil in llie existence of the 
inati'rials ami forces of nature that man 
thus nlilizes. nor yet the laws which make 
possible their change in place, form or 
relation: bul rtie laws of man's own nature. 
which aflect his own actions in the en- 
deavor to satisfy his desires by bringing 
about such changes. 



46 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL CCOVOMY. 



Tilt' work), as it is appreheiukMl by huniaii 
rciisoii, Is by that roasoii i-esolvablc. as \vi- 
liavi' seen, iino three elcineuts or factors— 
si)lnt, matter and energy. lint as these 
three ultimate elements are conjoined both 
iu what we call man and in what we call 
nature, the world reH:arded from the stand- 
point oC political economy has f(jr its orlj,'- 
iiiiil elements man and nature, of these, 
the human element is th<' initiative or 
acti\e factor— that which begins or act.s 
first. The natural element is the passive 
factor— that which receives and responds to 
it. From the interaction of these two pro- 
ceed ail witli which [xilitical economy is 
concerned— that is to say. all the .•hanges 
that l>y man's a,u:ency may lie wrought in 
the place, form or condition of material 
things .so as to better tit them fo,r the satis- 
faction of his desires. 

Between the m'aterial things which come 
into existence through man's agency and 
those which come into existence through 
the agency of nature alone, the differenco 
Is as clear to human reason as the differ- 
ence between a mountain and a pyramid, 
between what was on the t<hores of Lake 
Michigan when the caravels of Columbus 
first ploughed the waters of the Caribbean 
Sea and the wondrous White City, beside 
which in 189^5 the antetypes of those cara- 
vels, by gift of Spain, were moored. Yet 
it eludes our senses and can only be appre- 
hended by reason. 

Any one can distinguish at a glance, it 
may be said, between a pyramid and a 
mountain or a city and a forest. But not 
by the senses uninterpreted by reason. The 
animals, whose senses are even keener thau 
ours, seem incapable of making the distinc- 
tion. In the actions of the most intelligeiu 
dog you will lind no evidence that he recog- 
nizes any difference betweei a statue and 
a stone, a tobacconist's wooden Indian and 
the stump of a tree. And things are now 
manufactured and sold as to which it re- 
quires an expert to tell whether they are 
products of m'an or products of nature. 

For the essential thing that in the last 
analysis distinguishes man from nature 
can, on the material plane that is cogniz- 
able by the senses, only appear in th< 
garb and form of the material. Whatever 
man makes must have for its substance 
pre-existing matter: whatever motion he 
exerts must be drawn from . a pre-existing 
stock of energy. Take away from man all 
that is contributed by external nature, all 



that belongs to the economic factor land, 
.lUd you have, whatV Som'ething that is not 
t.iiigible by the senses, yet which is tho 
ultimat<' recipient and final cause of sensa- 
ti<Mi: something which has no form or sub- 
st.ince or direct power in or over the ma- 
terial world, but which is yet the origin- 
ating impulse which utilizes motion to 
iiKinld matter into forms it desires, and to 
which we must look for the origin of the 
pyramid, the caravel, the industrial palace; 
of Chicago and the m.vriad marvids they 
contained. 

I do not wish to raise, or even to refei^ 
furtlier than is necessary, to those deein 
liroblems of being and genesis where the 
light of reason seems to fail us and twi- 
light deepens into dark. But we must grasi> 
rhe thread at its begiuuing, if we are to 
hope to work our way through a tangled 
skein. And into what fatal confusions 
those fall Avho do not begin at the begin- 
ning niay be seen in current economic 
works, which treat capital as though it 
were the originator in production, labor 
as though it were a product, and land as 
though it were a mere agricultural in 
strument— a something on which cattle ar.' 
fed and wheat and cabbages raised. 

AVe cannot really consider the beginning 
,,f ihing.s, so far as a true political econ- 
omy is forced to concern itself with thenv 
without seeing that when mau came 
into the world the sum of energy 
was not increased nor that of mat-, 
ter added to; and that so it must be to. 
day In all the changes that man brings 
about in the material world, be adds noth- 
ing to and subtracts nothing from the sum 
of" matter and energy. He merely brings 
al)out changes in the place and relation of 
what already exists, and the first and al- 
ways indispensable condition to his doing 
anything in the material world, and indeed 
to his very existence therein, is that of 
access to its material and forces. 

So far as we can see, it is miivcrsa'.ly 
true that matter and energy are indestruc- 
tible, and that the forms in which we ap- 
prehend them are but transmutations from 
forms they have held before: that the in 
organic cannot of itself i)ass into the or- 
ganic; that vegetable life can only come 
from vegetable life; animal life from ani- 
mal life, and human life from human life. 
Notwithstanding all speculation on the sub- 
.ject. we have never yet been able to traco 



OF DESIRES AND SATISFACTIONS. 



47 



tlic oriuiu iif out' well detiiU'tl species from 
another well defliied species. Yet tlie way 
in whieli we tiiul the orders of existence 
superimposed and related, indicate to us 
design or thought— a something of which 
we have the first glimpses only In man. 
Hence, while we ma.v explain the world of 
which our senses tell us by a world of 
which our senses do not tell us, a world of 
what I'lato vaguely called ideas, or what 
we vaguely speak of as spirit, yet we are 
c.inipelled when we would seek for the be- 
ginning cause and still escape negation, to 
posit a primary or all-causative idea or 
spirit, an all-producer or creator, for which 
our short word is God. 

But to keep w'ithin what we do know: 
In man, conscious will, that which feels, 
reasons, plans and contrives, in some way 
that we cannot understand, is clothed in 
material form. Coming thus into control 
of some of the energy stored up in our 
physical bodies, and learning, as we may 
see in infancy, to govern arms, 'legs and a 
few other organs, this conscious will seeks 
through them to grasp matter and to set 
to work, in changing its place and form, 
other stores of energy. The steam engine 
rushing along with its long train of coal 
or goods or passengei's, is in all that is evi- 
dent to our senses but a new form of what 
previously existed. Everything of it that 
we can see, hear, touch, taste, weigh, 
measure or subject to chemical tests, ex- 
isted before man was. What has brought 
pre-existing matter and motion to the 
shape, place and function of engine and 
train is that which, prisoned in the en- 
gineer's brain, grasps the throttle: the 
same thing that in the infant stretches for 
the moon, and in the child makes mud pies. 
It is this conscious will seeking the gratl- 
tication of its desires in the alteration of 
material forms that is the primary motive 
power, the active factor, in bringing about 
the relations with which political economy 
deals. And while, whatever be its origin, 
this will is in the world as we know it an 
original element, yet it can only act in cer- 
tain ways, and is subject in that action to 
certain uniform sequences, which we term 
laws of Nature. 



Action Springs from Desire and Seeks 
Satisfaction — Order of Desires — Wants 
or Needs — Subjective and Objective 
Desires — Material and Immaterial De- 
sires — The Hierarchy of Life and of 
Desires. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Of IJesire.s and SsitisfaetioiiN. 

SHOWING THE WIDTH AND IMPOR- 
TANCE OF THE FIELD OF POLITI- 
CAL ECONOMY. 



All human actions— at least all conscious 
and voluntary actions— are prompted by de- 
sire, and have for their aim its satisfaction. 
U may be a desire to gain something or a 
desire to escape something, as to obtain 
food or to enjoy a pleasing odor, or to es- 
<ape cold or pain or a noisome smell; a de- 
sire to benefit or g ve jileasure to others, or 
a desire to do them harm or give them 
pain. But whether positive or negative, 
physical or mental, beneficent or injurious. 
so invariably is desire the antecedent of 
action that when our attention is called to 
any human action we feel perplexed if w( 
do not recognize the antecedent desire, or 
motive, and at once begin to look for ii. 
confident that it has to the action the r( la- 
tion of cau.se to effect. 

So confident, indeed, are we of this neces- 
sary casual relation between action and de- 
sire, that when we cannot find, or at le.ist 
with some plausibility surmise an anten- 
ilent desire of whicli the action is an ex- 
pression, we will not believe that the action 
took place, or at the least, will not believe 
that it was a voluntary conscious action, 
l)nt will assume, as the older phraseology 
put it, that the man was possessed by 
some other human or extra-human will: 
or. as the more modern phrase puts it, that 
lie .vas insane. For so unthinkable is con- 
scious, voluntary action without antecedent 
desire, that we will reject the testimony 
of others or even the testimony of our own 
senses rather tliau believe that a conscious 
act can take place without motive. 

And as desire is the prompter and the 
satisfaction of desire is the end and aim of 
all human action, all that men seek to do, 
to obtain or to avoid may be embraced ih 
one term, as satisfactions, or satisfactions 
of desire. 

But of these desires and their correspond- 
ing satisfactions, some are more primar.v 
or fundamental than others: and it is only 
as these desires obtain satisfaction that 
other desires arise and are felt. Thus the 
desire for air is perhaps the most funda- 
mental of all human desires. Yet its satis- 
faction is under normal conditions so easily 
had that we usually are not conscious of 
it— it is iu fact rather a latent than an 



48 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



ML'tual dc'siio. r.ut let one be shut I'ff I'rniii 
;lil-, :U1(1 tlU' desire to Set it lieriililes :U 
ouee the strongest of desires, eiistiu,^' out 
for tlie moment all others. So it is with 
other desires, such as those for food and 
drink, the satisfaction of which is neces- 
sary to the maintenance of life and health 
and the avoidance of injury and pain, and 
whicli we share in common with the brute. 
These primary desires lie as it were beneath, 
or are fundamental to, the manifold desires 
wliich arise in man when they are satisfied. 
Fur, while the desires of other animals 
seem "comparatively spealiiug few and fixed, 
the desires of man are seemingly illimit- 
able. He is indeed the never-satisfied ani- 
mal; his desires under normal conditions 
growing with his power of satisfying them, 
without assignable limit. 

In the same way as we distiuguisli be- 
tween necessities and luxuries, so do we 
often distinguish between what we call 
"wants" or "needs" aud what we speak of 
simply as desires. The desires whose satis- 
faction is necessary to the maintenance of 
life and health and the avoidance of injury 
and jiain— those desires, in short, whicli 
<-onie closest to the merely animal jjlane— 
we are accustomed to call "wants" or 
"needs." At 1 ast this is the primary idea, 
though as a matter of fact we often speak 
of needs or wants in ace >rdance w'lth that 
usual standard of comfort which we call 
icasonalile, and which is in a large degree 
a matt<-r of habit. And tlius while tn.' 
.stisfaction of desire of some kind is tlie 
i'Ud and aim of all human action, we I'fC- 
ogniz(\ though vagul.-, a diffennce in rehi. 
tivi' importance when we say that the end 
and aim of human effort is the satisfaction 
of needs and the gratification of desires. 

Without d sir.- man could net t xist. even 
in his animal frame. And those E .stern 
))hilosoiihies. of which that of Schoi)en- 
liauer is a \\'estern versii n. tliat teach th:it 
the wise man should sei k the e.xt nc.ion of 
all desire, also teach that such atta nment 
would be the cessation of indi.idual exi<t- 
enre. which they liolil to be in itself an 
(■\il. I!ut in fact, as man develii|is. rising 
to a liiuli r ijl.nie. his desin s iufal ibiy iu 
(•lease, if not in nunil)i'r at 1 ast in quality, 
becoming higluM- and broader in their end 
and aim. 

Now. of hunum d sires and their corre- 
s)>onding satisfactions, some may be sub- 
jective, that is, relating to the individual 
mind or thinking subject; and some ob- 
jective, that is, relating to the external 



worlil, the oliject of its thought. And by 
another distinction, some may be said to be 
immaterial, that is, relating to things not 
cognizable by the senses, i. e., thought aud 
feel ng; and somi' to be material, that is, re- 
lating to things cognizable by the senses, 
i. e., matter and energy. 

There is a difference between these two 
distinctions, but practically it is not a large 
one. A subjective desire— as when I desire 
greater love or greater knowl dge or happi- 
ness for and in my own mind — is always an 
immaterial desir.'. But it does uot follow 
that an objective desire is alwa.vs a ma- 
terial desire, since I may dt^sire greater love 
or knowledge or happiness for and In the 
mind of another. Yet we have to remember; 
1. That much that wc are prone to consider 
as immaterial se ms only to be so because 
tlie words we use inv(dve a purely ideal ab- 
straction of qualities from things they qual- 
ify, and without which the.y cannot exist 
as things really conceived. Love, kiio>vledge 
or liappiuess i)resuppeses something which 
loves, knows or feels, as whiteness presui)- 
iioses a thing which is white. 2. That while 
such qualities as love, knowledge or hap- 
piness may be predicated of objective 
tliougli immaterial things, yet, norma'- 
ly ai le.ist, we can have no cognizance of 
such an immaterial thing, or of its states 
or conditions, except through the material. 
I»epri\(>d of the senses of sight, sound, 
touch, taste and smell, tlie g.ates through 
wllieh the i'i;i> liccoines Conscious of the 

inateiial world, liow. In any normal way. 
couhl 1 or yon kiKPW of the love, knowledge, 
liai)i)iiiess or cxisteiice of any otlier such 
being'.' Except, indeed, there be some di- 
rect way in which spirit may have knowl- 
edge of spirit— a way it nia.v l)e that Is 
opened when that through the material by 
the gatis of the seiisrs is closed — the exclu- 
sion of the material is therefore a iirac-tical 
exclusion of the objective. 

I speak of this for the purpose of showing 
how nearly the field of material desires and 
s.itisf actions, within which the sphere of 
political economy lies, comes to including 
all linni.au desires and satisfactions, -^nd 
when we coiisid. r Imw in man the snli- 
Jectix'e is bound in with the olijective. the 
spiritual with the material, the importance 
of material desires and satisfactions to hu- 
man life as a whole is even clearer. For 
though we may be forced to realize, as the 
innermost essential of man. a something 
that is not material; yet this spirit or 
soul, as in this life we know it, is encased 



THE FUNDAMENTAL LAW OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



49 



Mild iiiiidisoiu'cl in iiiatti-r. Even if siib- 
jcctivf fxistence be possible without the 
bixly. ihe eso ;is we know it, deprived of 
iniicli with luiitter throtigh the senses, 
would he condemned to what may be lik- 
ened to solitary inipi-isonment. 

As vejretable life is built, so to speak, 
upon inorganic existence, and the animal 
may be considered as a self-movin}; plant, 
pills perhaps an animal soul: so man is an 
an.imal plus a human soul, or reasoning 
power. AikI while, for reasons I have 
toiiclied on. we are driven when we think 
of iiltim.-ite orij-'ins to consider the highest 
element of which we know as the originat- 
ing element, yet we are irresistibly com- 
pelled to think of it as having first laid 
the foundation before raising the super- 
strticture. This is the profound truth of 
that idea of evolution which all theories of 
cre;\tion have recorjnized and must re<'og- 
nize. but which is not to be confounded 
with the materialistic notion of evolu- 
tion which has of late .vears been popular- 
ized among superficial thinkers. The wild- 
est imagination never dreamed that first 
of all man came into being; then the ani- 
mals, afterward the plants, then the earth, 
and finally the elementary forces. In the 
hierarchy of life, as we know it. the higher 
is built ujion the lower, order on order, and 
is as summit to base. And so in the order 
of human desires, what we call needs come 
first, and are of the widest importance. 
Desires that transcend the desires of the 
animal can arise and seek gratification only 
when the desires we share with other ani- 
mals are satisfied. And those who are in- 
clined to deem that branch of philosophy 
which is concerned with the gratification 
of material needs, and especially with the 
way in which men are fed, cloth«'d and 
sheltered, as a secondary iiud iguob'e 
science, are like a general so absorbed in 
the ordering and moving of his forces as 
utterly to forget a commissariat; or an 
architect who should deem the ornamenta- 
tion of a facade more important than the 
laying of a foundation. 



CHAPTER XII. 



Tlif Fiiiidninental La'^v of Political 
Economy. 

SHOWING THAT THE LAW FROM 
WHICH POLITICAL ECONOMY PRO- 
CEEDS IS THAT MEN SEEK TO SAT- 
ISFY THEIR DESIRES WITH THE 
LEAST EXERTION. 



Exertion Followed by Weariness — The 
Fact That Men Seek to Satisfy Their De- 
sires with the Least Exertion — Meaning 
and Analogue — Exemplified in Trivial 
Things — Is a Law of Nature and the 
Fundamental Law cf Polit'cal Economy — 
Substitution of Selfishness for This Prin- 
ciple — Buckie Quoted — Political Econ- 
omy Requires No Such Assumption — The 
Necessity of Labor Not a Curse. 

The only way man has of satisfying his 
desires is by action. 

.\ow action, if continued long enough in 
one lino to become really exertion, a con- 
sijous imtting forth of effort, produces in 
the consciousness a feeling of reliictanci' 
or weariness. This comes from something 
deeper than the exhaustion of energy in 
what we call physical labor; for whoever 
has tried it knows that one may lie on his 
back in the most comfortable position and 
by mere dint of sustained thinking, with- 
out consciously moving a muscle, tire him- 
self as truly as by sawing wood; and that 
the mere clash and confiict of involuntary 
or undirected thought or feeling, or its con- 
tinuance in one direction, will soon bring 
extreme weariness. 

I'.ut whatever be its ultimate cause, the 
fact is that labor. the attempt of the con- 
scious will to realize its material desire, is 
always, when continued for a little while, 
in ir^elf hard and irksome. And whether 
from this fact alone, or from that, con- 
joined with or based upon something in- 
tuitive to our perceptions, the further fact, 
testified to both by observation of our own 
feelings and actions and by observation of 
the acts of others, i-s that men always seek 
to gratify their desires with the least exer- 
tion. 

This, of cours?, does not mean that they 
always succeed in doing so, any more than 
the physical law that motion tends to per- 
sist in a straight line means that moving 
bodies always take that line. But it does 
mean the mental analogue of the physical 
law that motion seeks the line of least re- 
sistance—that in seeking to gratify their 
desires men will always seek the way 
which under existing physical, social and 
personal conditions seems to them to in- 
vol\e the least expenditure of exertion. 

Whoever would see this disposition of 
human nature exemplified in trivial things 
has only to watch the passers-by in a 
crowded street, or those who enter or de- 
part from a frequented house. He will 



50 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



be instructed and i)eili:ips not a little 
amused to note how slight the obstruction 
or_i!eniblance of obstruction that will 
divert their steps and will see the prin- 
<-iple observed by saint and sinner— by 
"wicked man on evil errand bent." and 
"Good Samaritan intent on works of 
mercy." 

Whether it i)ri)ceed from exi)eriencc of 
tliQ irlisomeness of labor and the desire 
to" avoid it. or further back than that. 

* have its source in some innate principle 
of the human constitution, this disposi- 
tion of men to seek the satisfaction of 
their desires with the minimum of exertion 
is So universal and unfailing that it con- 
stitutes one of those invariable sequences 
that We denominate laws of nature, and 
from which we ma.v safely reason. It is 
this law of nature that is the fundamental 
law of p(ditical economy — the central law 
from which its deductiitns and explana- 
tions may with certainty be drawn, and 
by which only. iud(>e(l. they l)ecome pos- 
sible. It holds the .same place in the 
sphere of political economy that the law nf 
gravitation does in physics. Without it 
there could be no recognition of order, and 
all would be chaos. 

Yet the failure clearly to ai)prehend this 
as the fundamental law of political econ- 
omy, has led to very serious and wide- 
spread mistakes as to the nature of thi' 
science; and has indeed, in spite of the 
vigorous assertions and assumptions of Its 
accredited professors, prevented it from 
truly taking in popular esteem the place of 
a real science, or from long holding In 
scholastic circles the credit it had for a 
while gained. For the principle that men 
always seek to 'satisfy their desires with 
the least exertion, there has been substi- 
tuted from the time that political economy 
l)egan to claim the attention of thoughtful 
' men, the principle of human selfishness. 
And with the assumption that political 
economy takes into its account only the 
selfish feelings of human nature, there have 
been linked, as laws of political economy, 
other assumptions as destitute of validity. 
To show how completely the ide;i has 
prevailed that the foundation of political 
economy is the assumption of human self 
ishness, I shall not stop to (piote from the 
accredited writers on the subject, nor yet 
from those who have made of it a grouml 

■ of their repugnance to the political econ- 
omy that has been with justice styled "the 
dismal science" — such as Carlyle, Dickens 
or Ruskin. I take for that purpose a writ- 



iT who while he fully accepted what was 
.It his time (1857-60) the orthodox political 
economy, deeming it "the only subject im- 
mediately connected with the art of gov- 
ernment that has yet been raised to a 
s<ieiice," and was well conversant with its 
literature, was not concerned with it as a 
controversialist, but only as a historian of 
the (hnclopment of thought. 

Muckle's understanding of political econ- 
omy was that it eliminated every other 
feeling than selfishness. In his "Imiuiry 
into the influence exercised by religion, 
literature and government" (Chapter V. 
\'ol. I of his "History of Civilization In 
lOngland"), he says that in the "Wealth 
of Nations," which he regards as "prob- 
ably the most important book which has 
ever been written," Smith "generalizes the 
l;iws of wealth, not from the phenomena 
of wealth, nor from statistical statements, 
Ipiit from the phenomena of selfishness: 
thus making a deductive application of one 
set of mental principles to the whole set 
of economical facts." 

And in his "Examination of the Scotch 
Intellect during the Kighteenth Cen- 
tury," (Chapter VI., Vol. II), he re- 
turns in greater detail to the sami* 
subject. Adam Sm.th. he lays, wrote 
two great books. w'th an in- 
terval of seventeen years between theni. 
Ill both he employed the same method, tli.lt 
form of deduction "which proceeds by an 
artificial separation of f.icts in themselves 
iiiseiiarable." In the first of these the 
"Theory of Mo-al Sentiments." he "so n.ir- 
rowcil the field of inquiry as to exc'iide 

Ir it all consideration of selfishness as a 

primarv principle, and only to admit its 
ureal aiitagouisl. sympalhy." In the sec- 
ond, the "Wealth of X;ltioiis." which 
r.ucUle ri>j;.irds as ;i correlative pail of 
Smith's one gre.-Lt scheme, tlioii.uh sli'.l 
ure.-iler IliMii its jiredecessor. Smith, on 
I he colli r.-iry. "assumes llial seltisliiiess is 
the main regulator of huiii;in .-ilfairs. jiisl 
as in his previous work he had assumed 
sympath.x lo li<' so. ' Or. ;is liuckle. later 
'111. r.'pe.ils: 

He evfiywlieri' assumes tlmi the .great 
iiio\ iim power of all men, all inti'iesis 
• iiid ai; classes, in all n.ges and in all couii- 
liies. is selfishness. The opposite power 
of sympalhy he eiirirely shuts out. and 1 
hardly reiiH'iiilier an instam-e in which even 
the word occurs in tlie whole course of his 
work. Its fundamental assumption is, thai 
eni-li man exclusively follows his own in- 
terest or wh.it he deems lo be his own 
iiiicresl. * * * III this way Adam Smilli 
completely changes the premises lu' lii|(l 
assumed in his earlier work. Here he 



METHODS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



51 



iicikcs iiicii ii.it II nilly st'llisli; fornu'ily lie 
li:iil iiiiulc Ihom ii;itiir;ill.v s.vuipMthctii-. 
Mere ho rciircscnts tln'iii iiiirsuiiif; wealth 
for sordid olijccts and for tlie narrowest 
liersoiiiil iileasiires: formerly he liad rejire- 
seiited tlieni as |)nrs)iin;;- it out of regard 
to the sentiments of others and for tlie 
sake of olitainin^r llieir symi)athy. In the 
"Wealtli of Nations"' we hear no more of 
this eoiieiliatory and syniiiatlietie spirit: 
sucdi aiiiial)le maxims are alto;rether forji'ot- 
teii. and I lie affairs of tlie world are rej;n- 
lat<Ml by different in-inciiili's. It now ap- 
pears tiiat benevolence and atfeetion have 
no iiiHiieiK-e over onr aetions. Indeed. 
Adam Smith will hardly admit coninioii 
liiiniaiiity into his theory of motives. If 

.1 1 |ile emancipate their slaves, it is a 

proof, not that the people are acted on by 
liiuli moral consiib'rations. nor that tlieir 
symiiatli.v is exi-ited by the crnelty inflicted 
on these iinha)(i).v creatures. Notliinji' of 
tile sort. Stxdi indiK'eiiients to conduct 
are imaginary ami exercis<' no real sway. 
All that the emancipation i>roves is that 
the sla\'es were few in number and there- 
fore small in value. Otherwise they wonld 
not have been emancipated. 

So. too. while in his former work he had 
.ascribed the different systems of morals to 
the power of s.vmp.ith.v. he in this work ;iv- 
s(>ribes them eiitirel.v to the ]iower of self- 
isliiiess. 

This presumption, so well stated and de 
fended by Buckle, tli.il political economy 
mnst eliminate ever.vthins bnt the selif- 
isli feelings of mankind, has continued to 
Iiervade the accredited iiolitical ec-onomy 
up to this time, whatever may have been 
the effects u]»on the common mind of the 
attacks made upon it by those, who. not 
Itutting their objections into lofiical .and 
(•(dicreiit firm, could be spoken of as seii- 
1 inieiitaiists. but not political economists. 
Vet, liowe\ er generall.v the ticcepted 
writers on pfditical ecoiiom.v ma.v have 
themselves suiiposed th<' assumption of 
universal selfishness to be the fundameiiial 
principle of political economy, of how mucli 
sroupd they may have ^iven for such a 
supposition on the part of their readers, a 
true political economy requires no suidi as 
suiiii)tion. The primary postulate on and 
from which its whole structure is built, is 
not that all men are governed only b.y self- 
ish motives, or must for its purposes be 
considered as. governed only b.v selfish mo 
fives: it is that all men seek to gratify 
their desires, whatever those desires may 
be. with the le.ist exertion. This funda- 
mental law of political economy is, like all 
other laws of nature, so far as we are con- 
cerned, supreme. It is no more affected by 
the selfishness or unselfishness of our de- 
sires than is the law of gravitation, li is 
simiily a f.ict. 

The irksoineiiess or weariness that iiie\i- 
tttblv attends all continued exertion caused 



ilier men to look on the nece>;sity of 
lor to production as a penalty impo.-^cd 
ion onr kind by aa offended Deity. But 

the light of modem civilization we may 
e that what they deemed a curse, is in 
ality the impnlse that has led to tlie 
ost eiiormons extensions of man's jKUv-'r 

dealing with nature- So true is it that 
Mid and evil are not in external things or 
their laws of action, /Ijut in will or 
(irit. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

>lc<lioils of l*<»litifal K<'oiioiny. 

SHOWING THE NATURE OF THE 
METHODS OF INVESTIGATION THAT 
MAY BE USED IN POLITICAL ECON- 
OMY. 

Deductive and Inductive Schools — New 
American Cyclopedia Quoted — Triumph 
of the Inductionsts — The Method of In- 
duction and the Method of Deduction — 
Method of Hypothesis — Bacon's Relation 
to Induction — Real Error of the Deduc- 
tionists and the Mistake of the Induc- 
tionists — Lalor's Cyclopedia Quoted — 
Result of the Triumph of the Induction- 
ists — A True Science of Political Econ- 
omy Must Follow the Deductive Method 
— Davis's "Elements of Inductive Logic" 
Quoted — Double Assurance of the Real 
Postulate of Political Economy — Method 
of Mental or Imaginative Experiment, 

A misconcepdon of the fundamental law 
on which a science is based must lead to 
divergencies and confusions as the attempt 
to develop that science proceeds. 

Ill the case of political economy, the re- 
sult of (he assumption that its fundamen- 
tal principle is human selfishness is shown 
111 disputes and confusions as to its proper 
inethodl These began shortly after it was 
recognized as deserving the attention of 
the institutions of learning, and are an in- 
creasingly noticeable feature in ecouomic 
literature for some sixty or seventy years. 
Adam Smith and the most prominent of his 
snccissors followed tlie deductive method, 
r.ut ere long there began to be question- 
ings as to whether the inductive method 
was nat the proper one. Having ou their 
side the weight of atithority, the defenders 
of the deductive method, or "old school" 
p(ditical economy, as It began to be called, 
held for a long time their formal position, 



52 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



though coinpollt'fl by the inoongriiith's of 
the sj'stem thoy were onflenvoring to up- 
hold to make tlauiagiiig deductious and 
weakening admissions; while the opposi- 
tion to them, railed by various nairns, but 
geneialiy known ae indu<f'tive or 'new 
school" ecouomiKts, gathered strength. 

AVhat lay beneath this contest, whifh 
was largely vtT-bal, and in whieh tlK'n- 
was confusion on both sides, I shall li.ivi' 
occasion to speak of hereafter; but as to 
how it seemed to stand in the scholastic 
wciilil at the bet'iuning of the seventh dec- 
ade nf our <t'iitnry I quote from the ar- 
t (le ■ I'lilitieal Keoiunny'" in the "New 
.V iiiericin Cycldpeilia"" (IHOli, which as 
written l)y .in opponent of the then (Utlici- 
dox sehool (Henry Carey Baird). with an 
evident dssire to be Entirely fair, will I 
think better show the actual situation at 
that tiuie than anything else I can find. 

The progress thus far made in political 
ecimoniT lias been slow .-ind uncertain, and 
there is in its entire range hanlly a doc- 
trine or even the deflnition of an iuip<irt;uit 
word which is universally "i- even generally 
accepted as beyond dispute. * * * Amid 
all their discords and disag e mints it i< 
possible to divide political economists m, 
tier two general heads: those who treat tlu' 
subject as a deductive science, •'iu 
which all the general propositions 
are in the strictest sense of the 
w<u-d hvi)otheti<-al:" and those who treat 
it bv the inductive or Hac.mian method. 
Of the tirst-named sehool are all The Vaij:- 
lish economists and most of tliose of coii- 
tineutal Euroi)e who havi- accpiired any 
reputation. As the representatives of th- 
last. Mr. Henry ('. ("arey and his fol- 
lowers :ire the most i)rominent.* 

Thus, in ]S(>1. the dedilclive method. 
e\eH to the \ i.'w of an adherent of tic 
(ilil.oslug school, still formally held sw.iy 
in the scholastic world. I'.ut at prescnl 
as the ceniury neais its close, it has so 
uHcrly lost its hold that so far as I can 
(lisciivcr. there is not now a irrominenr 
colb;;e or tuiiversity anywhere, in whicli 
the professed teachers of what is reputed 
to be political economy adhere to what 
was then called the deductive method. 

Yet this triumph in scholastic opinion of 



As iUustratlng the liiiiseiicss with which the 
«iiuls inductive and deducti\c have been thrown 
anmnd in thi.s discnssion as to the pioper nirithod 
ol uolitical ecoiiomv. it may lie vvovth mentioning 
that th-' same Hinij ('. (^iie.\. who is here cited 
as the most inoniinenl iiprv.-eiUative of the in- 
ductive school, as opposed to the detluctive school 
of Sniitli. Hi iiM'o : nd Mil. is in the biographical 
iKitice M him in II e Icest successor of the "New 
American C.vclopaedia." the revised edition of 
•".Ichnson's t niversal Oyclo] aedia," (1SH.J.) said to 
be "'the founder of a school of political economy 
who.se principles are auti socialistic and move de- 
ductive than those of Smith, Kicardo aud Mill." 



the iulvocati's of what is called the in- 
ductivi" mclho<l, is in reality but tlie tii- 
nmph of one set of confusions over an- 
other set of confusions, in which the de 
termining element has been the \ ague 
i-onscionsiU'ss tliat the previously aiithori 
l.itive political (>conomy was not a true 
piditical (M'ouomy. Where :i new set of 
confusions is pitted against an old set ot 
coiif iisious, tlic victor.v must finally .iinl 
I'oi- ,1 time rem.-iiii with the new: fnv tlic 
iicasou that on the old. lies tlw burden 
cd' defending what is indefensible, wliili' 
the new lias for a while only rlii' e;isicr 
task of att;icU. \Vli:it this passiiii; phase 
of e'onomic thouglit really shows is I lie 
utter confusion into which the whole 
scholastic political economy li.-is fallci 
from lai-k of care ;is to first iirincijilcs. - In 
my view of the matter tlupse who ii;ivc 
said that llie deductive nictlnnl was lie 
pid|ier ijietliod of political e<-oiioliiy have 
b( en right as to that, but wron- in priii- 
< ip'es from which they h,i\c made de.lii- 
lines: while those who contended lor III' 
iiii'iici ve method liave been wrong as |o 
Hint, but right as to t,ie weaknessi's .1 
I >' ir o])ponents. 

.\s |o the course of what li;is been c;ii!cil 
I be science of political c( oiioniy ami the 
destructive revidiition which it has of l.i;i' 
\iais underg<uie. I shall ha\c occasion to 
spc.ik ill the next book. I am here oli'.y 
concerueil in clc.iring wh;it might be a 
pcridexity to the rcider in reg.ird to ibc 
proper methods of the real si-iciue. 

'I lie human reason has two ways of as 
cerlaining truth. The first of these i> riial 
of reasoning from particulars to generals 
ill an ascending line, until we iouh' at 1 .-;! 
lo (Uie of those invariable uiiitormities iliat 
\vc call laws of n.lture. This nictho 1 wc 
call the iiidiK-tivc. or " yoxt r ori. ■ 
when We have reached wh;it wi' feel sine 
is ,1 law of natirre, .-lud as sn(di true in 
.ill times ;iud places, then .-in easier aii.l 
more powerful methoil of ;iscert:rii iig 
lii'.th i.s open to us— the method of le.i- 
souiiig in the descending line from ucii 
cr.ils to parti<nlars. This is the mcMicI 
that we call the deductive, or (l priix- 
inetboil. For knowing what is the ;:cii- 
cra' law. tile Mivariable sequence thai \vc 
c.-ill a law of nature, we havt ly to dis- 
cover that I pa'-tii-u!ar comes under it i.> 
know what ic: true in the case ot th^'t par- 
ticular. 

In the rel.-ition of prituity the two melli 
ods stand in tlie order in which I have 



METHODS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 5^ 

iKiiiKMl tluMii— iiiductioii bciiii; tli<' tirst or sninc rules for its aiiiilicatiuii and id aiiplv 

liriinary int'thod of ai>i)l.viiij; iHimau reason ii to the invcstijjation of tiflds of knowl- 

to tl'c invcstisation of facts, .md diviiu-- "'^'s<' from wliirh it liad been lonj; shut out 

lion beinu the second or derivative. So I'.v a blind reliance upon authority— liy .1 

I'.-ir .IS our reason is concerned. indii<t;.)ii f.ilse .■issnnii)tion that wiser men who h.id 

must .liive t'le f.uts on wliic h we m.iy ;iro ~""e before li.-id tausht all there w.-is worth 

ceed to deduction. Keduction can iilv l^""'W"'iS' on certain subjects, and that then- 

siifely be based on what has been sui)i)red reniaimd f(jr those who came after noth- 

to the reason by induction; .-ind where the '".- lurllier to do than to make deductions 

validity of this tirst stci, is called in c|n<'S- fi'"'" premises their predecessors had sup- 



lion, must .-ii'.ply to induction for jiroof. 



plied. 



Itolh methods are proper to the <-aref(d Where the application ,,f the induciive 
investigations that we sjieak of as sci- method was really needed in «liat i-; now 
entific Induction in its preliniinai> c.ilied by the "new lights" the "classic.ii" 
stages, when it is groping for the law of P-'litical economy. Aas to test th<. premis,.s 
n.ature; d.Mluctlon win-n it has discovored ''"'" "'"<■'' 'f** ^edrctions wer(> nia.le. an« 
that law. and is thus able to proccd bv .i '" '■'"'"^" f^"'"' "' ^l.-xt lu.d no better war- 
slio:t cut from the general to the par- '•"" f'""' ■"'. <li'^l>osition to u.se political 
ticuhir. without any further need for ihe ''■ "^' '" •'"'^tif-V exisfing .social arrange- 
more liborions and so lo speak. up-)iill ""'""''■ ^^ '''■■"* "'^^ needed to take the 
„M.tno,l of iudu.tion. excp. i, mav \u- u, '''^"•'' "* "'"" 'l^^'^-tive method, where that 
v,.rifv its <-onclusions. ' "T '""•"'""'»'•'• '•'•^'- ^l"' 'l«'<luctive n.eth- 

Tlu.'r,. is a further me;hod , f invesrig itiou. 'f ^V""" ,'"'1*"*','' '", '"" ^'''''^''''' '•^f''»^i"" 

ot what had already been validly ascer- 
t.iimd. <-onstitutes the most powerful 

. means of extending knowledge that the hu- 

wh.ch has been found most ehective in man mind can avail itself of 

llu- ,Iiscovery of truth in the physical sci- ,„ j,^ „^,, ,,f ^,,^. deductive im.llio.l after 

em-es. When ,>ur imluctiolis so po'nt io j,^ premises had been settled, the classical 

the exlsteiic.. of a natural 1,-nv that we are political e.-.momy. as it is now sometimes 

able to form a surmi.s,. or snspi,-ion of ,..,||„,, ^^..,^ .^.^^ ;„ ^.j.,.^^. ,j,,^^^ ^_j,^.^^^. ^^_^^ 

gave insecurity to its whole structure Lay 
dec'per still, in th(> insufHcient inductions 



u iiii-li i-onsists in a comblnalion of t]ie>e 
l\\i) original mclliods of the reasmi. 111, 1 



wli.it it may prove lo lie. we ma.v teiil.i 
fix'ely assume the exislelice of such ;l 1.1 .v 

and proceed t.- see whether particulars ,,n which those premises rested. lint, ii 

will fall into ]d.icc in deductimir, made from ste.ol of addressing' themselves to these 

it. This is the method (d' tentative de- flaws in its accepted premises, the v.arious 

diK-iioii. or hypothesis. schools of economists generally classed 

'I'he inductive method is soinelimes. as ;is inductive have denied tli.it there 

in the l.ast .luot.itioii 1 have made, sp-.keii were any geiier.-il principles tli.at could 

of .IS the Kacou'.an mctliod. and the -re.-ii „-j,i, eertaiiity ))<■ hid down as the basis 

I'aine <if r.,icon has been frei ly used lo f,„. .leduction. Thus, if such a question be 

giv pl.iusibility to whal the .id vo,-;ites of .,sU,.,i th.'Ui a.s, does free trade or protec- 

ihe "new school" in piditic.-il e<-onomy have ,j,,„ ]„,^t iiromote .a general prosperity? or. 

.•ai.ed ilie inductive method, lint whateM'r „ hat is the bes. system of land fenure? or. 

ori.tin.ality tiiere m.iy li.i\c li.cn ia ills what is thf- best system of taxation? or. 

<d;iss ticitions and devices, itacoii di 1 not what are the limits of governmental in- 

inveiit the inductive metlioii. li was liy terfereiice with industry, or trade union 

lii.it method fli.it man's re.isoii li.is ^'lom reuulat ions '.' no ucneral answer can be 

tlic first cii.il)Icd him lo .•ippreheiid laws -ixcn. It can on' be saiil that one thing 

o| 11:1 1 lire thai lie li.is siilisei|iient ly usei] as may be best in one place and time and aii 

liases for deduction. It w.is thus tlnu in' other in auother place imd time, so th.at 

must li.i\i' learned wli.it we are .ici 11s- tln^ matter can only be determined b.v spe- 

loni'Mi to think the simplest of n.itines cial investigations. In .)tlu'r words, to 

uniforipities-such as that afler an inte:\;il (luofi- the phrase of Professor .Tames, of 

a new moon succeeds the old moon: that, the ruiversity of rennsylvania, an adher- 

ihe sun aft<'r apparently tending to the cut of the "new school." (article, "I»olitical 

south lor ,1 while. turns .m.iiii lOconomy." in Lalor"s "C'yclopaedia of Po- 

to the noiLh: thai lire will l)nrn, litical Science. P(ditlcal Economy and T'nit- 

• iml that waler will iineiKdi lire. What e.l States Histc ry," 1884^, they have op- 

I'.acoii dio, was not to imeiit or discover po.sed "tile theory which seeks eternally 

the inductive nielhod; bul lo lonmil.a I <■ \alid n.ilnral laws in economics, and wliich 



54 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



coiisiiU-rs the natural i-oiiditioii of uulini- 
itrd jiorsoiial frcoiUmi as tlic only justitia- 
hlc one, without regard to the needs of 
sjiecial times and nations." 

Tlie result, therefore, of the trivunph of 
the ■■indu<-tionists"" over the "deduetion- 
Ists" in the accredited organs of eeouoinic 
leacliing, has been to destroy in tlie "new'" 
](oliiical eeononi.v even the semblance of 
coherency that it had in the "old," and to 
deeompose it into a congeries of unrelated 
doctrines and unveritied speculations which 
only its professors can presume to under- 
siaiid, and as to which they can dispute 
,111(1 (luarrel with e;ich other in the wild 
abandon that results from the absence of 
any recognized common principle. 

Hut to -nie, it seems ciear that if political 
(eci;M,my can be called .1 science at all. it 
must as a scieuee. that is to s.iy from the 
iihii cut the laws of nature on which it 
ih'pevds :ue discovered, follow the deduc- 
ti\e method of examination, using induc- 
tion only to test the conclusions thus ob- 
tained. For the i>arti(Mil:irs which .-ire in- 
cluded in its ]irovince aif too vast and too 
comulex to admit of any hope of l)ringing 
r.rin into order and relation by direct in- 
iliiri ion. 

in iplotc from the l.llesi eleiiH-ntary text 
h,,. 1; of lov'.c of \\ hicli I know, I'rofessor 
.\i.,i!i K. Davis's "iOlements of Inductive 
1.0- c." (Harper I'.ros., New York, IStKb, 
p. litT: 

The great ob.ject of the scientist is to ob- 
l.nii' by ri.gid induction the laws of nature, 
.•md to follow them by rigid deduction to 
their conseiiueni-es. A science at tirst 
w hi lly inductive becomes, as soon as a law 
has lieen proved, more or less deductive; 
and as it i)rogi-esses, rising to higher and 
wider but fewer inductions, tlie deductive 
JIN cesses increase in ntimber and impor- 
lai'ce. until it is no longer properly an 
ii'tluctive. but a deduct ixc scienc<'. Thus. 
I'\ drost.-itics. actnistics. oiitics and elec- 
tiii'ity. commonly calle<l inductive sciences. 
li:'\(' passed under the dominion of matl)e- 
iii.itics. from inductive to deductive sciences 
.■mmI mechanics has .-i like history. Celestial 
i"'cli.iuics as foundi'cl in the I'rincipia" 
of Newton is mainly inductive: as elab- 
or.ated in the "Mechaniiiue Celeste" of 
I.aiilace. is mainly deductive. I'.y imrsuing 
tills later ]»rocess it has multiplii'd its 
u'atter and reached its jtresent high per- 
fcctior.. .\ revolution is quietly progressing 
in ;ill the nntural sciences. P.acon changed 
their method from deducti\-e to inductive. 
I'l'd it is now rapidly revertinir from imluc- 
tive to deduitive. The task of logic is to 
explicate and regulate these methods. 

Xow the law of nature which forms the 
postulate (iT a true science of iiolitical 
economy is nol. as has been (Mioneously 
;tssumed. I hat men are invariably and uni- 
versally seiiisl). As a matter of fact, this 



is nol true. Nor can we abstract from man 
all but selfish (jualities in order to make 
as the idtject of our thought on economic 
matters what has been called the "economic 
man. ' without getting what is really a 
iiioiister. not a man. 

The l.iw of nature which is really the 
postulate of a triu' science of political eco- 
nomy, is th.it men always seek to gratify 
llieir desires with the least exertion. 
\\li( ther those desires are selfish or nnsel- 
tish. j;<iod or b;id. 

That this is a law of nature we have the 
highest jiossible warrant, wider in fact 
than we can ha\c for any id' the laws of 
external nature, such f<ir instance as tin- 
l;i\\ of gravitalion. I"or the laws of ex- 
icrn.-il nature can only be apprehended 
objectively. Kut that it is a law of na- 
inie that men seek to gratify their desires 
with the least exertion, we may see both 
snli.jectivel.v and ob.iectivel.v. Since man 
himself is included in nature, we may 
subjectively reach the law of miture thai 
men seek to gratify their desires with the 
least <'xertion. by an induction derived from 
cdiiscionsness of our own feelings and .-m 
:inal.\sis of our own mciti\es of actioii; 
Willie objectivi'ly we \n;{y also reach the 
saiiM' law by an induction derived from ob- 
scrxalion of the .acts of others. 

I'ldceeding from ;i law of nature thus 
doubly assured, tlie proper method 'if a iio- 
litical economy which becomes really a 
science \i\ its correct apprehension of a 
IniMlnnienlal law. is the nielhod id" dc- 
liiiclion fioiii that law. the method of ]ii-o- 
cceding fioiii the general I0 the particulirs: 
tor this is the method w liiih wil' en.-ible i>s 
(i) .-ittain incompjirably grcaler re-mlts. To 
.•ibai'don that metliod and resort to what 
tile "new lights"' of political eeononi.v s<'em 
really to me.-Lii iiy induction, would be as 
though we were to discard the rules of 
.1 1 ithinetic and endeavor by direct inrpiiries 
in a'l parts of th<^ world to discover how 
iiiucli one number .•idde<l to another would 
make, .-inil what would be the rpiotiefit of 
a sum dhiili'd by itself. 

Tims, in the main, the s(;ience <d' political 
economy resorts to the deductive method, 
using injlnction for its tests. Bur in it^< 
mole common investigations its most useful 
instrument is a form of hypothesis wliicli 
ni;iy be called that of mental or imagimi- 
live ex]ieriinent.* by which we may se|)- 

*Sco Ifctiiif (Iclivcved liv me befove th? students 
.)f tlic t'liivcrsity of ("nlifurni.T. on "Tlic Study nf 
I'nlilicMl Kcononiy." .\piil. 1877, n-piiiiteil in "I'uli 
iilar «clfii(«- .MiHitlil.v," Miudi, bSS". 



POLITICAL ECONOMY AS SCIENCE AND AS ART. 



55 



urate, coiiiljiuc or rlhninato comlitions in 
our own imasiiintioiis, and thus test r)ie 
working of known principles. This is a 
most eoninion method of reasoning, familial 
to lis all, from onr very infaiie.y. It is the 
great working tool of political economy, and 
in its use we have only to be careful as to 
the validity of what we assume as princi- 



CHAI'TP^R XIV. 

Political ICcoiioiiiy as S«'i«'ii«'f aiul as 
Art. 

SHOWING THAT POLITICAL ECON- 
OMY IS PROPERLY A SCIENCE, AND 
THE MEANING IT SHOULD HAVE IF 
SPOKEN OF AS ART. 

Science and Art — There Must Be a Sci- 
ence of Political Economy, but No 
Proper Art — What Must Be the Aim of 
an Art of Political Economy — White Art 
and Black Art — Course of Further In- 
vestigation. 

llicre is found .-inioiig economic writers 
not only much (lisi)ute as to the propci' 
method of political cconinu.\-. but also as to 
whether it should be sjioUcn of ns a science 
o! as an art. There are some who have 
styled It a science, and some who have 
styled it an art. and some who speak of It 
ns both science and art. othei-s again 
n;Mkc substantially the s.imc division, into 
iilistr.-ict or llieori'ticnl or spccid;it ivc poli(i- 
c.ii ccouoniy, on the <iMc side, .-ind concri'te 
or iiormatlxc or rcL;ulMtlvc oi- applied polit- 
ical c<-<iuoniy. on the olbcr side. 

Into this ni;iltcr. Iiowcvcr. It is hardly 
worth Nvhilc for us to cuter .-it any length, 
since the reasons for i-onshlerliig ,i proper 
piditical economy as a si'lciice rnllier than 
Jill art have been already given. It is only 
iiecessar.v to <d)scrve that where s.vstema- 
tlzed knowledge iiia.\- be distinguished, .-is 
it HometlmeK is. lnl<i two bi-anches. science 
and art, the proper distinction between 
Ihciii is that the inc relates to what we call 
i.-iws of iiMUle; tlie other to the iii;iiiiier in 
which we may ;i\.iil oui-sehcs cd' these 
natural laws to attain desired ends. 

This first branch of knowledge. It is clear. 
Is in political economy the prlmar.v and 
most imiiortant. It Is only as we know the 
natural l;iws of the production and distri- 
bution of wealth that we can previse the 
result of the adjustments and regulations 
which human laws attempt, Ami "'^ who- 
ever wishes to uiKlerstaml anil treat the 



diseases ;ind accidents of the human frame 
would properly begin by studying it in its 
normal condition, noting the position, rela- 
tiiui and functions of the organs in ;i st.ite 
of perfect health; so an.v study of the 
f.uilts, aberrations and in.iuries whicli oc- 
lui in the econom.v of society comes best 
after the study of its natural .ind iionual 
eondition, 

Tlicre may be disi)Utes as to whether 
tliero is yet a science of political economy, 
that is to say, whether our knowledge of 
tlu' natural economic laws is as yet so 
large and well digested as to merit the title 
(d' science. But among those who recognize 
th.it the world we live in is in all its 
sidieres governed by law, there can be no 
dispute as to the possibility of such a 
science. 

.Vud as there <"Ui be only one science of 
(diemistry. one science of astronomy aiKl 
one science of physiology, which in so far 
MS they are really sciences, must be true 
ami invariable, so, while there may be va- 
lieiis opinhms, various teachings, various 
liyp(dheses (<u- in a loose and Improper but 
exci'cdingly common use of the w'onl. va- 
rious thcoriest, of !>olitical economy, there 
ran lie only one science. And it. in so far 
as ir Is really .•! sclence^that is to say. 
ill so far as we have really discovered 
and related the natural laws whl<-h 
,ire within its province-must in all times 
and idaces be true and invariable. For ^^e 
live in a world where the same effects al- 
ways follow the same causes and where 
nothing is caprieious. unless Indeed it be 
that scmiething within ns which d<'sires, 
wills and chooses. P.ut this In man, that 
seeing, to a certain extent at least, inde- 
pendent of the external nature that 1^ 
r(cogni/.ed by our senses, can manifest 
Itself only In ;i<-cordance with natural l.-iws. 
and cMu accomplish its external purposes 
only by using those laws. 

When we shall have worked out the 
science of polilU-al econom.y— when we shall 
liave discovered and related the iiaiural 
1.1 ws which govern the production and dis- 
tribiitlon of wealth, we shall then Ix' in a 
position to see the effect of human laws 
,ind customs. But It does not seem to me 
ihiit a knowledge of the efCi'Ct which nit- 
iiial laws of the production and dis!r;bu- 
tion of wealth bring about in the ouiconi>' 
(if human laws, customs and efforts, can be 
properly spoken of as an art of iiolitical 
economy, or that the knowledge properly 
classified under the term political economy, 



56 



THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 



(•.•lu bi* divided, ;is sdiiic wi-itcis li:iv<' ;it- 
ttMiipted to divide it. into a science and a!i 
art. 'I'liere is a science of astionoin.v. 
wlucli lias its applicaiions in siudi ails ;i^ 
those of navi'iation and suive.ving; but no 
art of astrononi.v. There is a science of 
ehenustrj-. whlcli lias its applications in 
many arts: but no art of (dieniistry. And 
so the science of political economy tind>' 
its apolications in politics and its vnriou.-! 
subdivisions. Kur these api)lications eaa 
hardly Ix' spoken of as constitntiiii; .in art 
nf poiitical ec(moniy. 

Vol if we choose, as some have done, io 
speak of iiolitical economy its botli scieiu e 
and art, then the art of political economv 
is ilie art of securinu tlie fjreatest produc 
tion and the fairest distribution of wealth; 
the art whose |)roper ol).ject it is to aboli.d) 
poveity and the ftar of poverty, and so lift 
the poorest ami weakest of mankind above 
the ha id strugfjle to live. For if th( re be an 
art of political economy, it must be the 
noble art that has for its object the benefl* 
of ;ill nieiiibers of the economic community. 

lint .just as wlien men believed in ma;;;i( 
iliev IichI tli.it tliere was botli a white 
m.-igic .Hill ,1 black niajiit — an art wliicli 
aimed .il .illeviatiii}; suffei-in^- and do'iij; 
.yood. and .111 .irt whicdi sou>;ht knowlcd.ije 
for selfish ,iiii| c\il eiids-so. in tills view. 



it may be said that there is a white polit- 
ical economy and a black poli'lcal economy. 
Where a knowledge of the laws of the (iio 
iluction and distribution of wealth is iis.'d 
to enrich a few at the expense ol the many, 
or evdi wliere a reputed knowledge of 
I hose laws is used to bolster up su<di in- 
jus I ice, and by darkening counsel to pr(>- 
\ rut or delay the reform of it, such art of 
political economy, re.-il or reputed, is truly 
■A black art. This is the art of which .the 
;;rcat Turgot spoke. 



I'or our part, having seen the nature and 
scope of tile ,;cieuce of political , economy, 
for which we adopt the older ilefinition— 
the s(dence that investigates tlie nalnre .it 
wealth and the laws of its production anil 
ilistrilmtion, let us lirocecd in this order: 
endeavoring to discover: (ll tlie nature of 
wealth: (2) the laws of its poduction ai:d 
I hen (■'{) the laws of its dis r.butioii. ^^'ll<■ll 
this is done wc shall li.-ivc ■•iccoiii- 
plishcil all tliat it is necessary for a iiiir 
science of political economy, as 1 under 
slaiid it. It will not be necessary foi- ns 
III consider the matter of the consiimptlon 
of wealth; nor. indeed, as I shall hereafici' 
show, is a true political economy cousuiiu'd 
with consumption as many of the minor 
I conomic writers have assumed it to lie. 






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